


The Real Life

by galaxystiel



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Male Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:37:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 41,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxystiel/pseuds/galaxystiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Domestic Verse. Arthur and Eames' life together outside of dreamsharing. Rated for language, slash but no smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Dreams

They kiss seven times before Arthur accepts his fate.

Their first kiss was unplanned, unparalleled and, in Arthur's case, completely unreciprocated. It occurred in Bucharest of all places. Cobb, Mal and Arthur were pulling an extraction job which had taken them to Romania, where, coincidentally, Eames was currently residing. It was out of familiarity that they hired him, rather than an actual need for a forger. Mal _adored_ Eames, and Arthur adored Mal, so he never once complained if the forger drove him to despair every time their paths crossed. And if Arthur's frustration was borne out of his totally unwarranted attraction to the forger, then who would know?

Cobb adapted the plan so Eames could be involved. It made the job slightly riskier in Arthur's opinion, but everyone else felt the risk was diminished by Eames' military experience and therefore capability of defending himself.

Initially everything went well. Then it all went to shit.

Somehow, the projections got to them before the kick. Eames found himself in the middle of a swarming mass of projections, drawing closer by the second. He cocked his gun, and prepared to go down fighting. Before anyone could move, Arthur burst through the door, firing shot after shot and never missing his mark. Eames grinned and helped him take down the remaining projections. When they were all dead, Arthur moved quickly over to Eames.

"Are you hurt?" He asked briskly. Eames shook his head. Neither of them sported even a scratch. Eames opened his mouth to speak, but his words were lost as another shot was fired. Arthur found himself flung into the wall as Eames pushed him to one side. Recovering quickly, he spun to see a projection that they'd somehow missed. How the fuck had they missed someone? Without the slightest hesitation, Arthur raised his gun and shot the projection between the eyes. He turned to grin at Eames, triumphantly, but his smile faded as he faced the forger.

Eames looked mildly surprised, meeting Arthur's eye before they both glanced down and saw the blood soaking through his shirt.

"Oh." Eames said, before he crumpled.

Reacting instantly, Arthur caught him before he hit the floor, cradling the forger against his chest.

"Why would you do that?" Arthur resisted the urge to shake the man in his arms until his teeth rattled. A significant amount of expletives came to mind, so he voiced a few of them. "Of all the stupid fucking _idiotic_ things to do, Eames!"

"You could just say thank you." Eames winced with the pain.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Arthur demanded. "I'm going to wring your neck when we wake up."

Eames laughed; a choking, pained sound. Arthur raised his weapon to end the forger's suffering. Eames' hands closed round his wrists like shackles, preventing him from firing.

"Eames, you've been shot in the fucking stomach, you've got to be in agony, why won't you let me wake you up?" Arthur snapped.

"Want to make sure you don't get hurt." Eames spoke slowly, as if each word was a struggle to form. "If you stay to look after me, I know you're not out there getting shot."

Arthur rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth, exasperatedly. "That's the worst logic I've ever heard, Eames. If I get shot, I wake up, end of story."

Eames shrugged and Arthur fell quiet.

"Sick of me, darling?"

Arthur repressed a smile. "That implies that I'd ever been able to tolerate you, Mr Eames."

Eames replied, but his voice was so low, Arthur had to lean closer to hear.

"I know you adore me really, darling. I did just take a bullet for you after all."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, a cutting remark on the tip of his tongue, but his ability to speak was temporarily disabled by a pair of lips covering his own. It took Arthur a few seconds to realise what was happening, and even then he was too surprised to react instantly.

The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. _Eames'_ blood, he noted, before he was distracted by the warmth of the forger's lips. The kiss was warm, soft and contained a surprising amount of strength considering Eames' weakening state.

After a moment, when Arthur didn't immediately pull away, the point man felt Eames' lips turn up in a grin, still pressed against his own. This spurred the Arthur into action and he broke the kiss roughly, his eyes narrowed.

"That was entirely unprofessional." He began coldly. "And I'll thank you not to do that again."

"But you enjoyed it." Eames pointed out. Arthur barked a laugh.

"Definitely not. Enjoying a kiss usually spurs reciprocation." He pointed out. "If that's your best, you might want to work on your technique." It was a lie and deep down they both knew it, but the forger wanted Arthur to recognise that he wanted Eames as much as Eames wanted him, so he didn't press the subject.

"In that case, I'll need a lot of practice. Care to help a friend out, Arthur?" Eames waggled his eyebrows, settling on humour, which was marred by his current state.

Arthur stared at him, his usually cold expression filled with hurt and confusion.

"You have a strange definition of friends, Mr Eames. People don't use their friends like that. If I meant anything at all to you, you wouldn't do this at my expense." Before Eames could reply, Arthur's mask of cool indifference was back in place. He picked up his gun, coldly, and shot Eames in the head, effectively ending the forger's suffering. He opted to stay in the dream until the kick, unwilling to face Eames right away. He needed to think.

He successfully managed to evade being alone with the forger until the following day, at the airport. Cobb and Mal were flying to Buenos Aires for a holiday and their flight was called first. They bade farewell; Cobb shaking hands with Eames and Arthur, and Mal enveloping them both in a hug, before they disappeared, leaving Arthur alone with the one person he wanted to avoid.

"It was interesting working with you again, Mr Eames." Arthur began, acting casual. Eames cut him off, holding out a hand for the point man to shake. Arthur took it, unsure if he appreciated the forger's sudden professionalism, or despised it.

"Likewise, darling." Eames smiled sadly, which made Arthur's chest clench. With a nod, Eames turned to leave, but Arthur stopped him.

"Eames." He stopped, unsure of what to say. He hadn't planned anything, but he'd had plenty of time to think and he didn't want to leave things as they were.

"I'll call you first if we ever need a forger." Arthur promised, eventually. "And ... I'd like you to know that I consider you a friend too."

Uncomfortable with his sudden declaration, Arthur turned to head for his gate. He didn't get more than two steps before he was yanked back to find himself pressed into Eames' chest. He could feel Eames' hot breath against his face and his eyes flutter shut involuntarily. The forger's stubble grazes his cheek as he whispered in Arthur's ear.

"Till next time, darling."

Eames withdrew and Arthur opened his eyes to find the forger had gone. He turned, scanning the airport for Eames' whereabouts, but he had vanished, leaving Arthur confused as to what had happened. He raised a hand to his face, brushing his fingers gently over the exact spot where Eames' cheek had touched his own only moments before.

* * *

The second time they kissed, Arthur punched him. It had been almost eight months since their last job together in Bucharest. Eight months since Eames had kissed Arthur, and neither of them had mentioned the subject. Arthur was slightly glad that Eames hadn't brought it up, but also slightly hurt that the forger seemed to have forgotten about it.

In truth, Eames hadn't forgotten at all. He'd thought of nothing else for almost eight months and had almost contacted Arthur on more than one occasion. His pride had stopped him each time. If Arthur wanted Eames, he knew how to contact him. Eames' resolve stuck for eight months, but broke upon their next meeting.

It hadn't been remotely uncomfortable between them. On the contrary, the kiss had broken down the tension between the two men, allowing them to become extremely good friends outside of the sizzling attraction between them. Arthur found out a lot about Eames and what he did when he wasn't dreamsharing. In return, he told Eames all about his relationship with Cobb and Mal and how he'd gotten started in the business. The restraints their job placed on them meant it was extremely difficult to make friends, but Arthur and Eames found that with each other, it came as natural as breathing.

Their attraction was another matter. Arthur reacted violently to their second kiss, trying to deter the forger's interest in order to retain their friendship.

They'd just finished a very short extraction, the subject being a wealthy businessman in Abu Dhabi. Back in the warehouse, they were packing up everything they'd left behind when it happened.

Arthur was humming; something he only did when he was distracted. Eames didn't realise at first, assuming it was Cobb or Mal. It was only he recognised the song he realised who it was. It was Mozart. He knew for a fact that neither Cobb nor Mal listened to classical music; they'd had a discussion about music types once. Which only left Arthur. Eames was fascinated to witness Arthur so carefree, without inhibitions. It wouldn't last long; he'd remember where he was in a few moments and then his neutral demeanour would return.

Sure enough, listening carefully, Eames noted Arthur's intake of breath when he realised what he was doing. Careful to keep his eyes fixed on the bench he was dismantling in case Arthur turned around and caught him staring, Eames couldn't help but feel amazed at how different the point man seemed when he thought nobody was paying him any attention.

It was only because Eames studied Arthur carefully that he could tell the subtle differences in his moods. He could now pick up on the details that escaped everyone else: the slight slump to his shoulders when he was tired; a complete contrast to the point man's usually perfect posture. The way his eyes lit up when he was talking about paradoxes and the way he spoke softly to Mal, his affection for her evident in every nuance of his voice… Eames noticed them all.

There was one small change that he had picked up on during the last job and it intrigued him to no end. During the time in the dream, the projections had made for Cobb. Eames had once again caused a distraction and found himself surrounded by projections. Arthur had appeared and they'd both taken them all down.

"Every time I work with you, darling, it's like déjà vu." Eames had chuckled, but stopped, peering at Arthur. The point man had turned on his heels and left, not uttering a word, but Eames had already noticed the dissipating panic in his eyes. Arthur had been terrified that Eames would get hurt. It was natural that Arthur would worry about his safety; they were friends after all, but Eames suspected there were different reasons behind his concern.

He straightened up, unable to bear the suspense any longer. He dropped the still partially-assembled bench silently and headed over to Arthur. The point man had his back to Eames, but Eames made sure that he was walking audibly; he knew Arthur carried a gun and it wouldn't do to startle him. Eames had no doubt that Arthur would shoot him and pretend it was an accident.

"I hope this is important." Arthur said wryly, without turning round. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the forger's incessant teasing. He was trying to clean the Somnacin vials, which took a lot of concentration.

"Darling, would I bother you otherwise?" Eames grinned. Arthur sighed and set the vials down, rising.

"What can I do for you, Eames?" He raised an eyebrow impatiently.

"I was wondering about the dream." Eames murmured, keeping his voice low. He didn't want to embarrass Arthur by confronting him in front of Mal and Cobb. Nevertheless, Arthur froze; his face harsh and cold.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr Eames. Now, if you'll excuse me…" He turned, effectively ending the conversation, but Eames wasn't about to be brushed off so easily. He grabbed Arthur's wrist and the point man reacted instantly, spinning them both and pinning Eames roughly against the table. His eyes were wild, fury darkening them even more than their already dark hue. Eames narrowed his own eyes and with a swift movement, reversed their positions so Arthur was now trapped.

"I want an answer, Arthur." He demanded fiercely, still refusing his volume to surpass a whisper. The point man stared at him, unflinching, still furious, but recognising that Eames wouldn't move until he got what he wanted.

"Merely a concern for a colleague, Mr Eames, nothing more, nothing less. Now, can I get back to work?" Arthur's voice was steady and never wavered, but Eames knew he was lying. He moved closer, his lips inches away from Arthur's ear.

"You're lying, darling. You're telling me you feel nothing for me at all?"

There was a definite pause before Arthur answered. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed it, but of course Eames did.

"Don't be ridiculous." The tone was cutting and ordinarily would have hurt Eames, but Arthur's vicious manner wasn't delivering the blow it usually did. Eames' only response was to swoop in and press his lips to Arthur's firmly. The point man tensed and broke the kiss immediately. Eames grinned, and then felt Arthur's fist smash into his jaw, sending him flying into the bench he was working on earlier, which smashed beneath his weight. He winced at the impact. The punch had been strong and well-delivered, but it hadn't landed anywhere that would cause any real damage.

Eames glanced up at Arthur, who was looking at his fist in horror, before he turned his gaze to the forger. Eames stood up, dusting his trousers down. He turned around to see Mal and Cobb staring between the two of them, disapproval and sorrow etched on their faces. He shrugged, attempting to make light of the situation.

"Well, that's that dismantled. Thanks for the help, Arthur."

He turned to grin at Arthur, to portray that there were no hard feelings, but the point man just blinked at him, expressionless.

Arthur felt his regret crushing down on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. Even after he'd given the forger a right-hook, which he _knew_ had to hurt; Eames forgave him without a second thought. He didn't deserve the forger's friendship, or his attention. He knew himself that there was something between them, but he hoped that by spurning Eames' efforts, it would eventually fade.

Arthur turned to Mal and Cobb for advice, but all he could read was the disappointment and sorrow in their faces. Eames could see their expressions; he didn't know what it was exactly, but something in their faces caused Arthur's shoulders to slump. He threw the keys to the PASIV towards Cobb, and swiftly left the warehouse, only pausing to grab his jacket.

It took Eames exactly five seconds to realise Arthur wasn't coming back. After that, he didn't hesitate, grabbing his own jacket and heading out after him.

* * *

Their third kiss was an apology and marked the change in their relationship.

Eames knew Arthur would be heading back to the hotel to grab his bag. He knew that if he let the point man leave with things as they were, he'd probably never see him again. It hurt his chest to think that his reckless impulse had caused Arthur so much distress. He'd just wanted Arthur to admit to himself that he wanted Eames. He sped back to the hotel, not stopping for any red lights. He needed to ensure he got there before the point man left.

He screeched to a halt outside the hotel, not taking the time to park the car properly. It was only when he got inside that he realised he had no idea where Arthur's room was. He dialled Cobb's number.

"What's Arthur's room number?" Eames asked as soon as the phone connected. Cobb was silent for a moment.

"Look, Eames, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think it will help Arthur calm down if you burst in there and…"

Eames growled irritably. "Cobb, I'm not joking. I need to see him before he leaves." He snapped, effectively cutting Cobb off. If he hesitated, he would miss Arthur. No matter what he wanted from the point man, he never wanted to cause him any distress.

"Let me speak to him, my love." Eames could hear Mal's soft voice in the background and felt a surge of hope. Mal was reasonable. She would help him. There was silence, presumably while Cobb passed her the phone.

"Room 341. Fix this Eames. You're good for him." She commanded, her gentle voice containing an undercurrent of concern and love. It made Eames dizzy, to hear the fondness she felt for both of them in her voice. Mal was truly a lovely woman.

"Thank you." He whispered, hanging up the phone and running for the stairs. He found Arthur's room quickly and knocked. There was no reply, but he knew Arthur was there. He hadn't passed him in the lobby and Arthur hadn't had enough of a head start to have left yet.

"Arthur, open the door please." Eames said quietly, knowing Arthur would hear him regardless.

"Just go, Eames. I'm really not in the mood." Arthur's reply sounded weary. The forger immediately felt awful, knowing he was responsible for Arthur's misery.

"I'm not moving from here until you come out and speak to me." Eames threatened. Arthur knew he was perfectly capable of carrying out his threat.

Eames heard a sigh and then resigned footsteps. The door opened and Arthur stepped aside to let him in. Arthur was looking more relaxed and more uptight, yet his perfect image was tarnished by the fact that he'd loosened the top few buttons on his shirt, and his hair had strands falling in his eyes, giving him a slightly boyish look. He also looked tired, as if their fight had taken all of his strength. His next words consolidated that fact.

"I'm tired of fighting you, Eames." Arthur said, and Eames could hear just how much in his tone. He felt utterly shit. Feelings aside, Arthur was his friend and he never wanted to hurt him.

"Arthur, I'm sorry." Eames apologised, sincerely. "I never meant for any of this. I mean, well, I clearly meant to kiss you, but I didn't mean for any of this."

"I know." Arthur nodded, smiling sadly. Eames could tell he was only privileged enough to see this softer side of Arthur because Arthur was simply too tired to keep up the façade of being a robot. He was set in his ways, determined to be perfect all of the time. It seemed doubtful that anyone other than Cobb and Mal had ever seen more than a hint of Arthur's real personality. But now Eames was seeing him without inhibitions, without Arthur's professionalism to distort his true self. And he liked what he saw.

He reached a hand out hesitantly and placed it on Arthur's arm. The point man looked at him curiously.

"I'm sorry." Eames repeated, staring Arthur in the eyes. Arthur smiled at him and this time the smile met his eyes. He didn't shrug away from the forger's touch; instead he gently placed his hand on top of the forgers.

"How can I blame you? I am irresistible after all." Arthur smirked, rolling his eyes to emphasise his sarcasm. Eames grinned.

"You underestimate your appeal, darling." He said casually. "Does this mean I'm forgiven then?"

Arthur seemed to consider this question carefully. "I'll think about it." He grinned. Eames pouted, trying to look cute, but Arthur laughed, a sound which filled with Eames. The sound of Arthur laughing was beautiful and Eames knew he would do everything in his power to make him laugh again.

"Where will you be heading, darling?" Eames asked, curiously, cocking his head to peer at the point man. Arthur shrugged and Eames couldn't tell if he didn't want to tell him or if he genuinely didn't know.

"I don't have any jobs lined up at the minute." Arthur mused. "And I don't have any set destination in mind. I never decide until I'm on my way to the airport. It's safer that way."

Eames nodded, understanding. He stood up swiftly. Arthur looked surprised that the forger was intending to leave.

"Well, Arthur, I'll be off. It has, as always, been absolutely _delightful_ working with you. Don't leave it so long next time though. Eight months without your company is simply unbearable, darling." He drawled. He paused and then offered his hand for the point man to shake. Arthur took it, firmly and wasn't surprised when the forger used the leverage to pull him in for a kiss.

Eames brushed his lips against Arthur's, savouring the contact. It was only a fleeting touch, but enough for Arthur's eyes to flutter shut. He didn't return the kiss; but he no longer fought it. Eames withdrew, and stroked Arthur's cheekbone with his thumb.

"Stay safe." He whispered. Arthur knew the forger would have left before he opened his eyes. Sure enough, when his eyes snapped open, the forger was gone; the tingling on Arthur's lips the only sign that he'd been there at all.

* * *

The fourth time they kissed, Arthur kissed him back.

It was an accidental meeting; they were both between jobs. Arthur had decided to check up on an apartment he had in Prague, which was only blocks away from a hotel where Eames had recently taken up residence. Prague was a good place to disappear when you were being hunted because of a disastrous extraction with an incompetent team. At least, it usually was.

Eames had taken a job with an unknown extractor named Armstrong, against his better instincts. He'd tried to check his background, but little to nothing had showed up. Eames had tried to contact Arthur, e-mailing him the name of the extractor in case Arthur was able to find something, but his reply hadn't come through until after Eames had agreed to the job. Dismissing his screaming instincts, he'd carried on with the job and now sorely regretted his decision. The extractor had betrayed them; it was only Eames' quick reactions and skill at fighting that saved his life. But now he was being hunted down by Armstrong and their mark, Benson, so he'd chosen to lie low in Prague for a while. It had saved his life more than once.

Only this time, they caught him.

He was having a quiet drink in a bar around the corner from his hotel, mulling over the risks of working with unknowns, when they'd found him. Eames had assumed that even if they'd traced him to Prague, they'd be checking for him in the lower class ends of town; the places he tended to frequent. Unfortunately, they were quicker than he'd given them credit for. Eames heard their footsteps approaching and stood, intending to fight. A hand gripped his shoulder and he felt the barrel of a gun pushing into his spine.

"I wouldn't struggle if I were you, Eames. This can be quick and painless if you co-operate. Or we can make it nasty of you'd prefer." Armstrong sneered in his ear. Eames sighed and nodded his comprehension. "Outside. Now."

He got up to leave. As he approached the door, he found his escape. He flung the door open, hitting Armstrong in the chest so he flew backwards, knocking over a table. His former mark was still close by, but his gun wasn't to hand, so Eames took his chance and ran, picking any direction just as long as he was clear of Armstrong.

Arthur was out buying the paper when he saw Eames running. He couldn't believe his eyes. His eyes scanned the street rapidly and he spotted the trouble following Eames. He sighed, irritably. The forger brought trouble wherever he went. Quickly, he stepped into an alley and waited for Eames to run past. When he appeared, Arthur snapped his arm out and dragged him into the alley, out of sight. The forger struggled for a moment, but then relaxed when he recognised his assailant.

"Arthur!" Eames exclaimed. Arthur slapped a hand over Eames' mouth.

" _Idiot!_ " He hissed. "Do you want them to hear you?"

Eames shook his head and Arthur removed his hand. "What are you doing here?" Eames breathed, amazed at the coincidence.

"I have an apartment here. That's not important." Arthur dismissed. "Why the _fuck_ did you take that job, Eames? I warned you what he'd done; why the hell didn't you listen to me?"

Arthur was whispering, but his tone was vicious, biting.

"I'd already agreed to it by that time, darling." Arthur recognised Eames' honesty and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Do you have your gun?" He asked, eventually. At Eames' nod, he continued. "Fine. Lure them here. I'll take care of the rest."

Eames nodded and carefully stepped out into the street. He spotted Armstrong, but made no effort to hide himself. Armstrong also spotted him and signalled for Benson to follow. Eames didn't struggle when they dragged him back into the alley he'd just emerged from. There was no sign of Arthur, but Eames didn't doubt he was there, probably hiding in the shadows. Sure enough, there were two loud cracks as Arthur shot and killed both of Eames' pursuers. He appeared instantly, his gun back in his waistband. Not a hair was out of place, unlike Eames, whose appearance was dishevelled.

"Thank you." Eames sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his palm. Arthur nodded, briskly.

"Let's get out of here. Those shots weren't exactly quiet." Arthur instructed, leading the way. He brought Eames back to his apartment, unthinkingly. Eames stepped in and looked around, whistling. It was light, spacious, and tidy. So very Arthur and so very impersonal. He said as much to Arthur, who couldn't repress a small smile.

"I haven't been here for a while." He admitted. "I prefer living in LA; I have most of my things there."

Eames nodded thoughtfully, exploring Arthur's apartment. Aside from a painting in his bedroom, there wasn't anything personal, nothing that screamed that this apartment was a home. So Eames learned nothing new about the point man that had caught his attention.

"Are you hungry?" Arthur called. Eames drew his attention away from the painting to listen to Arthur. "I can make us something, or I could order in if you don't trust my cooking skills. To be perfectly honest, ordering in would be better, I don't actually have any food in this apartment."

Eames entered the kitchen and raised an eyebrow in Arthur's direction, hiding his amazement at how relaxed Arthur seemed. He wasn't even wearing a suit, just a white shirt and dark jeans. "You can cook?" He asked.

"Well, not really." Arthur admitted. "Basic things, like pasta. There are some menus in the drawer over there if you want to order in." He pointed at the drawer next to Eames, who ignored it.

"I could make something." Eames found himself offering. "To say thanks. You did more or less just save my life."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Thanks are unnecessary. You'd have found a way to talk yourself out of it. You always do. And there's no way I'm letting you poison me in my own kitchen, Eames."

Eames grinned. "I'm sure there was a compliment in there somewhere. And I can cook." He argued. "Bugger it, I'm not taking no for an answer. Just direct me to somewhere I can buy fresh ingredients, darling."

Sighing for what felt like the millionth time that evening, Arthur gave Eames directions to a store a few streets away. He was back within ten minutes, clutching two paper bags. When Arthur tried to peek at what was inside, Eames all but threw him out of the kitchen unceremoniously, telling him to make himself useful and keep out of the way. Arthur settled down to watch TV, grumbling loudly about unwanted guests who invaded his kitchen. Soon there were the most wonderful smells coming from said kitchen, and Arthur couldn't resist peeking. It looked like Eames was making a stew of some sort. The aromas permeating the air made Arthur's stomach rumble loudly, to his chagrin, drawing Eames' attention.

"Smells nice, doesn't it?" He grinned at Arthur. Arthur sidled over to the stew.

"No." He lied. "Smells awful. Smells like something died in my kitchen."

Eames laughed. "You won't be saying that when you taste it. Sit down, it's done." He directed Arthur to the table. The table was set, and there was a bottle of wine and two glasses. Arthur surreptitiously checked the label, not trusting Eames to pick a good vintage. He was mistaken. He poured them a glass, begrudgingly impressed with Eames' choice.

His admiration was pushed to one side as Eames carried two plates over, setting one down in front of Arthur. He sat opposite him setting down his own plate. It looked divine, but Arthur stared at it suspiciously. Nothing could smell so good and taste equally as good. He briefly wondered if Eames had a motive to poison him.

"Now don't say I've slaved away for the best part of an hour for you to not eat it, darling. I won't be happy." Eames waved his fork threateningly. Resigned, Arthur scooped up a forkful and chewed it hesitantly. His eyes widened as the flavour hit his tongue. He swallowed, gaping.

"Oh _fuck_ , that's good. Why the hell aren't you some sort of chef?"

Without waiting for a reply, Arthur began eating the stew quickly. Eames grinned and began eating his own food. The wine flowed freely, as did the conversation. Eames found that Arthur was a lot more receptive to conversation when they weren't on a job. In turn, Eames offered small details of his life outside dreamsharing. Inevitably, the conversation eventually turned to the fact that they'd kissed.

"Why did you kiss me?" Arthur asked. That he'd brought the subject up at all was proof of how drunk he was. Eames paused, his glass halfway to his mouth. He surveyed Arthur, searching his face for his motives for mentioning the clearly taboo subject. After a moment, he set the glass down.

"Which time?" He asked, simply. Arthur's brow furrowed.

"There are different reasons?" He questioned. Eames pondered this.

"No, not really." He admitted. "Does it really matter why?"

It was Arthur's turn to ponder. After a few minutes, he looked up at the forger. "No, not really. Are you planning to do it again?"

Eames was taken aback. "I don't know. What would happen if I did?" In truth, he did plan to kiss the point man again, but he was waiting for the right time.

"I don't know." Arthur admitted. "I tend to just react without thinking. I don't think I'd punch you this time." He added, thoughtfully.

Eames grinned. "Good to know." He stood up and walked around the table towards Arthur. The point man met his gaze, unflinching as he approached. Standing next to Arthur, Eames paused and then leaned down until his lips were only an inch or so from Arthur's. His eyes searched his face for a moment, looking for any objections. When he found none, he closed the gap, brushing his lips lightly against the point man's. He pulled away to gauge Arthur's reaction. There was none, so Eames kissed him again, firmer this time, moving his lips against Arthur's. He steeled himself, wondering whether the point man would push him away or hit him.

He wasn't prepared for the idea that Arthur might kiss him back. Arthur himself hadn't been prepared for that idea. He'd been sure that he wouldn't hit Eames, but he hadn't expected his body to react to the forger's touch in such a way. He knew he enjoyed it when Eames kissed him, but he'd never admitted it to himself. Apparently, his brain was tired of taking charge and was letting Arthur react naturally. The amount of alcohol he'd imbibed probably played a huge part too.

Arthur's hands moved to Eames' waist and he deepened the kiss. The forger's mouth opened in surprise and Arthur took advantage of it, sliding his tongue in to meet Eames'. Eames groaned and entwined his tongue with Arthur's, cupping the back of the point man's head.

They eventually broke for air, panting and flushed. Arthur couldn't meet Eames' eyes, embarrassed by his reaction. Eames didn't want to upset the situation; they were walking on eggshells and one wrong move could ruin the progress they'd made that night.

"Can I stay here tonight? It's too late to check into a hotel. You have a guest room, right? I think I saw one earlier."

Arthur nodded, not really paying attention. He was lost in his thoughts.

"I'm going to turn in then. I've got to head to London tomorrow." Arthur's eyes snapped to his, surprise and hurt visible in his gaze. Eames sighed patiently. "You remember me telling you my sister was getting married, right? I was supposed to be there yesterday for the dress rehearsal, but because of Armstrong, I was held up."

Arthur nodded, the hurt disappearing from his gaze, but he didn't speak, not trusting his voice. He didn't understand why he was so deflated by the fact that Eames was leaving. One kiss from someone he didn't even like all that much and he was behaving like a lovesick puppy. Except that was a barefaced lie, Arthur thought. He did like Eames, more than he should and far more than was good for him. But no matter how much he hid them, his feelings for the forger were undeniable.

"Goodnight." He said at last, and Eames left the kitchen. He remained seated; sipping his wine until he was sure Eames was asleep. Glancing at his watch, he calculated it was mid-afternoon in LA. He pulled out his phone and dialled a number he had memorised.

"Mal." He murmured when she picked up. "I need some advice."

"What is it, Arthur?" Her concern had him fighting back tears, unwilling to get upset over the man that infuriated him at the best of times.

He took a deep breath and blurted out his problem before he could talk himself out of it. "If I have feelings for someone I shouldn't, what should I do?"

Mal was surprised, that much was clear. "Then you should tell him, darling. It's clear Eames feels the same for you."

Arthur didn't ask her how she knew. He just rested his head on his palm, clutching the phone to his ear.

"But what if it doesn't work?" He whispered. He could feel himself sobering up and was already regretting the phone call.

"But what if it does?" Mal countered, gently. "It will all work out in the end. Things like this always do." She promised.

Arthur fell silent, then hung up the phone. He lowered his head into his hands, and didn't move from that spot all night.

* * *

The fifth time they kissed, Arthur initiated it.

Mal and Cobb had woken up after being trapped in limbo for around fifty years around the same time as Eames left London after his sister's wedding. After only a few days it was apparent that something was wrong with Mal, but at first he was reluctant to involve anyone else. After two months of fighting and crying and begging, Cobb eventually realised he couldn't help Mal alone. He called Arthur and Eames, hoping the familiarity of their friends would help her to realise that this was reality, that there was no dream to wake up from.

They arrived the day before Cobb and Mal's anniversary; Eames arriving from St Petersburg and Arthur from Florence. Arthur arrived first, heading to the house he'd visited so often. He looked pale, haggard, and had dark circles under his eyes. Arthur was furious that he'd waited so long to contact him.

"You're my friend _and_ my partner, Cobb. You don't have to deal with this alone."

When he saw Mal, he was so taken aback, he couldn't be angry. The way she was neglecting James and Philippa was so unlike her, Mal was devoted to her children.

"Hi Mal." Arthur greeted, smiling. Even if things weren't right, he was still happy to see her. Mal, however, ignored him completely and glared at her husband.

"Is this another attempt at persuading me that this is reality, Dom? When will you realise you're dreaming and _he_ is just a projection!" She snarled. Arthur recoiled at her sudden vicious streak. This wasn't Mal.

"What about your totem, Mal?" Arthur asked, in a strangled voice. He was having trouble articulating his words, totally thrown by the change in his friend.

"She won't look at it." Cobb replied. "No matter what I do, she thinks she's still dreaming."

Eames arrived at that moment, interrupting the debate. Mal answered the door.

"Mal!" Eames exclaimed delightedly. "I was looking for Arthur; he said he was on his way here. Has he arrived yet?" He was lying, and all of them knew it, but it eased the atmosphere and Mal relaxed enough, even to smile.

"Your projection of Eames is so realistic, Dom." She smiled, but for the first time it reached her eyes. "He's even chasing after Arthur in your dreams too."

Arthur flushed and Eames grinned, winking at the point man. Cobb just looked uncomfortable. Eames attempted to defuse the situation and kissed Mal on the cheek, moving over to shake hands with Cobb. Finally, he turned to Arthur.

" _Wonderful_ to see you again, darling." He gushed, shaking hands with Arthur. Arthur failed to resist the urge to roll his eyes exasperatedly, but the fondness in the motion was evident.

Mal looked at Cobb. "I know what you're doing, bringing them here, and it won't work. You're dreaming, Cobb. You need to wake up. We need to go home to our children. Our _real_ children."

With that, she swept out of the kitchen. A few minutes later, they heard the door slam. Cobb slumped to the floor, his head in his hands. Eames busied himself with playing with Cobb and Philippa, baiting Arthur in all ways possible to amuse the children. He was trying to distract them from their father, who was deep in discussion with Arthur about what should be done. Even whilst occupying James and Philippa, Eames was listening.

"It's our anniversary tomorrow. We're going to the usual hotel. I'll suggest to her that we go back under one last time and see what happens."

Eames knew Mal would never agree, but they didn't have another option. So when Cobb and Mal left for the hotel, they both agreed to babysit. Arthur was perfectly content to spend time in Eames' company; a direct contrast from only a year previous when any time spent with the forger left him with the desire to kill. Eames was, of course, thrilled at the time he would spend with Arthur.

James and Philippa were no trouble at all. Eames kept them amused, and Arthur was strict about making sure they were in bed for a reasonable hour. Together, they read the children their bedtime story, each taking a different role and voice to tell the story. When the children were asleep, they settled on the sofa.

"They're good kids." Eames said, conversationally, settling down far too close to Arthur to be innocent. Arthur hummed his agreement, staring at the forger. Eames caught his gaze and smiled; an affectionate expression present on his face. Arthur shifted closer to Eames, flushing slightly as he did so. Eames cottoned on immediately, and leaned forward to kiss the point man.

The phone rang, causing Arthur to leap up, moving swiftly away from Eames.

"Hello? Cobb? What's wrong…I… Christ, are you…? Yes, of course. I'm coming now. Eames will look after the kids."

He hung up and turned to Eames, his face ashen as if all the blood had drained out of it.

"Mal's dead." He whispered. An expression of horror melted onto Eames' face and Arthur was sure he was sporting a matching expression.

"What happened?"

"She jumped out of a window in the hotel. Apparently, she's left a letter with her attorney, framing Cobb for her murder. She was trying to force him into jumping."

Eames gaped. "But… there's no way he's going to talk his way out of that. He'll go to prison."

Arthur nodded. "I have to go and get him. Will you stay here in case the kids wake up?"

Eames agreed, instantly, seeing Arthur to the door. He felt a pang of regret thinking of James and Philippa. Their mother was dead and their father was probably going to be in jail for the rest of his life.

"Call me as soon as you find out anything." Eames ordered as Arthur started the car. He promised and sped away, leaving Eames staring after him.

Arthur didn't return till the next afternoon, Cobb in tow. Eames hadn't been to bed, waiting for them to arrive. They both looked exhausted; Cobb especially. He was numb, staring at things like he could see straight through them. He didn't respond when Eames spoke, but no one blamed him. He'd lost his wife and risked being framed for murder. Ignoring his two colleagues, Cobb went to find his children and give them the bad news. He stopped on the bottom stair.

"Arthur? Eames?" He croaked. "I really appreciate what you've done. But when the children find out…"

Eames understood. "You'd rather we weren't here. We'll check into a hotel. Call if you need us." He grasped Arthur's elbow and firmly led him from the house. He knew Arthur would need comfort just as much as Cobb, so he would be the one to provide it.

They checked into a hotel, only stopping at their rooms to drop off their belongings. Then, by mutual consent, they found themselves in the hotel bar, ordering drink after drink. When the bar staff refused to serve them anymore, they headed up to their rooms, Eames deciding to stay in Arthur's room for a while. Arthur collapsed onto the bed, and Eames lay beside him.

"She was one of my only friends." Arthur slurred. "I only have three. I was never really a people person, and it's hard to find people you trust in this business, you know? Now she's gone, I only have two friends."

"Cobb and me?" Eames guessed. Arthur nodded, an inelegant gesture due to his drunkenness.

"Yeah. But you're different to Cobb. You're… a different kind of friend."

Eames smiled, patting Arthur's arm, clumsily.

"How am I a different kind of friend?" He asked. Arthur sat up, staring down at the forger, not speaking. A few minutes later, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the forger's. Eames couldn't believe he had kissed him. _Arthur_. Professional, unfeeling Arthur was kissing him. He kissed back, savouring the feel of Arthur's lips against his. He'd waited so long for this moment, he wanted to commit every detail to memory. He slid his tongue along Arthur's bottom lip, slowly. Arthur shuddered and opened his mouth to allow him access. Their kiss was heated, passionate. It was as much of a fight for dominance as it was a symbol of their attraction to one another.

A few minutes later, Arthur broke the kiss. This time, he was able to meet Eames' eye, but Eames could see that Arthur still wasn't ready to accept his feelings for the forger. They both knew that they wanted each other, but it was clear Arthur wasn't sure if Eames was worth the risk.

"I'm not like you." Arthur said quietly, much more alert than he had been previously. "I can't just pretend that things don't hurt."

Eames looked at the point man sadly, before he stood up. "In the time we've known each other darling, I've never once lied or hid anything from you."

Before Arthur could reply, Eames was gone. The point man brought his hand up to his head, severely regretting his words. He knew he wanted Eames, wanted to begin a relationship with the forger. He just didn't know if Eames was as serious about him. What he was certain of, was that, regardless of how untrustworthy Eames could be, his feelings for Arthur had always been genuine.

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes. Next time he saw Eames, he wouldn't make the same mistake.

* * *

Their sixth kiss left Arthur with a lot to think about.

On the first layer, after Saito had been shot, there was chaos. Cobb was panicking; clearly knowing something that the rest of them didn't. The truth had only come out when Eames had tried to end Saito's suffering and Cobb had pinned him to the taxi, preventing Eames from firing the gun.

Eames stared at Cobb, accusingly. He wasn't concerned about his own safety; even if he'd known the risks he would still have taken the job. His priority was Arthur, yet at the same time, he didn't want to risk being stuck in limbo without him.

Arthur was the same. His rage was caused by a mixture of his partner's betrayal, and his fear that he would lose Eames. He knew the forger was resourceful and could take care of himself, yet the terror was overwhelming. Arthur resisted the urge to take out Cobb's kneecaps with his Glock. The only reason he succeeded was because Eames' presence soothed away all thoughts of causing Cobb bodily harm.

The two didn't make eye contact, but their overwhelming and entirely inopportune desire to kiss was permeating the air. To suppress the crushing atmosphere, Arthur turned away from Cobb, ordering Yusuf to help him get Saito upstairs. They needed space to think through their options and Saito needed first aid.

After a short discussion, Eames refused to go any further.

"Forget it; if we go any deeper, we just raise the stakes. I am sitting this one out on this level, boys." His motives were only partly selfish. He knew that they couldn't complete the job without him, so Arthur would have no choice but to stay on this level with him. Unfortunately, Cobb pointed out the dangers that meant his sitting out wasn't a viable option. Recognising that his lack of involvement would put the team in even more danger, Eames relented and agreed to continue the job.

He could still sense Arthur's fury; it was rolling off him in waves. Risking a glance at the point man, he could see the glare he was directing at Cobb and understood the danger it meant. Arthur needed to calm down. Cobb, however, was either oblivious to his rage or ignored it, because he tossed Arthur a balaclava.

"Come on, let's shake him up a bit."

Arthur's hand twitched and Eames moved swiftly, appearing at Arthur's side instantly and grabbing his wrist to stop the man going for his gun.

"Let go, Eames." Arthur growled, warningly, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn't hear him. Glancing around, Eames saw Ariadne and Yusuf busying themselves with the first aid kit, clearly not listening. Cobb however, had turned around to stare at them suspiciously.

"We can't get out of here without him." Eames murmured. "Shooting him is perhaps not the best idea."

"I wasn't going to shoot him." Arthur lied. At Eames' sceptical look, he amended himself. "Okay, fine, the idea crossed my mind for less than a second. I wasn't actually going to do it."

Cobb cleared his throat, impatient to get on with the job. Arthur turned to glare at him again, and Eames reacted quickly.

"Darling, can I have a word? Won't be a minute, Cobb." He said cheerily, dragging Arthur downstairs and outside of the warehouse. Cobb followed them down, but waited inside, not interested in their conversation and unwilling to intrude.

"What is it, Eames?" Arthur asked, curiously. He smiled to himself, knowing that in previous jobs, he'd have been annoyed at the interruption. It showed how far their friendship had come.

Eames swallowed, not knowing where to start.

"Well, you see, darling, this is the most dangerous job we've been on. There's a risk not all of us will make it out…" he trailed off.

Arthur frowned, bemused. "So, you're scared, is that it? I don't really know what I can do to help there."

"No, no." Eames corrected quickly. "That's not it. It's… you see Arthur, I don't want to get trapped in limbo with any regrets."

It was clear Arthur didn't understand what he was getting at. Exasperatedly, he spoke bluntly.

"Arthur, just bloody kiss me, will you?"

Something sparked in Arthur's eyes and he crashed his lips onto the forger's. Their kiss was desperate, heated, filled with an urgency that neither of them had experienced before. The recognition that they might not emerge from this with their mind intact was weighing down on both of them, which made their need for each other stronger.

Eames crushed Arthur to him tightly, crushing him to his chest, fingertips digging in his waist. In turn, Arthur gripped the forger's shoulders forcefully, knowing that Eames could not hold him tight enough.

The kiss was brief, but felt like it lasted an eternity. When they eventually pulled away, they pressed their foreheads together, panting and staring into each other's eyes.

"When this is over, I don't want to wait till the next job to see you anymore. I want you properly, Arthur. I didn't intend to tell you this yet; I wanted to wait until you were ready." Eames' words were sincere and he ensured Arthur knew there was no obligation. "I would have waited forever for you to be ready, but we're out of time now. I didn't want to go down another level without laying it out properly. I want you beside me, every day."

Arthur was reeling as the forger spoke. He'd had an inclination as to how Eames felt about him, but he never expected him to give him the choice. He had assumed that one day Eames would be tired of waiting for Arthur to make up his mind, and lose interest. An odd feeling rose in his chest, and he quashed it. He wanted to make this decision with a clear head and not while they were on the job.

Eames could see Arthur's internal conflict and backed away, giving the point man space.

"You don't have to make up your mind now, or even straight away. But either way, come for a drink with me after we wake up." The offer was light, but held the warning that both of them had better wake up from this.

"Alright." Arthur nodded firmly. His tone held the seal of a promise that they would both wake up, and Arthur's word was unbreakable; his integrity and honesty flawless and unblemished. In all the years Eames had known him, Arthur had never broken a promise.

"Right." Eames smiled, and not another word was spoken. They moved swiftly back into the warehouse and Arthur slipped the balaclava on, heading off with Cobb. Eames moved upstairs to begin getting ready for the impersonation. Their conversation was pushed to one side for now, so they could concentrate on the job. But it left both of them filled with the hope that this job could succeed, and they would have something new waiting for them afterwards.

* * *

Their seventh kiss left behind all of their inhibitions, doubts and fears.

Arthur wasn't sure exactly when he made the decision. Subconsciously, he was aware that he could never refuse Eames; that the only reason it had taken them so long to get to this stage was because of his own fears. Thinking back, there had never been a time when he didn't want Eames. Even when they were fighting, it was to cover up the attraction they both knew was there. Arthur didn't know what changed his mind. But he did know that he wasn't about to throw away what was probably his last chance with the forger.

It was terrifying.

He didn't know if it had any chance of working, if they were at all compatible. All he knew was that he was tired of fighting Eames, tired of running and pushing him away. If it didn't work, he would know that they'd at least tried. But he still didn't know when exactly he decided to dispel his doubts for good.

It could have been when he kissed Ariadne, in a last ditch attempt to convince himself that he didn't need Eames so desperately. The kiss didn't even last a full second; he knew it was wrong instantly when the forger's face swam behind his eyes, leaving him wracked with guilt. He'd had to apologise to Ariadne for leading her on, but the softness of her eyes told him that she knew why he'd done it and that he hadn't been quite as subtle as he thought.

It could have been when Eames voiced his concern over leaving Arthur on the second level alone.

"Security's gonna run you down hard."

Arthur smiled, sliding the needle into Eames' hand, connecting him to the PASIV device. He knew Eames didn't doubt his ability to evade Fischer's projections, but militarised sub-security was a larger risk when the end result could be limbo.

"And I will lead them on a _merry_ chase." Arthur had drawled, asserting himself smoothly. Eames had grinned up at him crookedly, and Arthur held onto his hand, pretending to adjust the straps of the IV.

"Just be back before the kick." Eames warned up. Arthur scowled, but it was all in good humour, his amusement visible in his gaze and the way his mouth quirked up.

"Go to sleep, Mr Eames." Arthur ordered, pulling the forger's sleeve down and moving away to check on the others, touched at the concern Eames had shown for him.

It could have been when Arthur missed the kick, having been delayed by the projections. He had unwillingly stranded the others on the third level, leaving him only three minutes to improvise a new kick to reunite himself with the team. He moved quickly, propelling himself through the zero-gravity, ignoring the burn in his shoulders as he raced to drop the elevator shaft.

It could have been when he searched the beach for any trace of Eames and the relief and adoration they exchanged purely in their expressions when their eyes met and they saw that they'd both made it out intact.

It could have been either of those times, but Arthur knew it was much earlier than that.

Earlier than the first time Arthur had reciprocated a kiss from Eames'. No, Arthur had made the decision that he wanted to spend his life with the forger from the moment Eames had taken a bullet for him. The forger had allowed himself to be shot in the stomach, on a job, and kissed Arthur while dying in his arms. Arthur's reaction to shoot Eames was out of fear; fear because the forger had ignited in him something so strong, it felt like it would consume him. From the moment Eames had made the decision to throw himself into the path of that bullet, Arthur had irretrievably lost his heart to the forger. It had just taken his brain a long time to catch up and admit to the feelings that he'd quashed in order to maintain a friendship, that, to be honest, would never have been enough for either of them.

The week on the first level was the longest week of Arthur's life. Eames totally disappeared for most of the week, checking in once or twice a day so the others could see he was fine and that he hadn't run afoul of any projections. Arthur, Ariadne and Yusuf stuck together, coining the phrase 'safety in numbers'. Arthur was glad to be able to keep an eye on Ariadne; he felt responsible for the young girl and since Cobb was no longer there to do it…

Arthur swallowed, feeling Cobb's absence strongly. They all had about five minutes until they woke up back on the plane, but Arthur wasn't sure if he wanted to wake up. The knowledge that his partner was currently stranded in limbo was too much for him to bear and he didn't think he could face waking up and seeing his partner comatose. He was sitting outside, on a bench. It had rained non-stop for the entire week, but Arthur didn't care. It was oddly fitting. He sat, staring at the rain but not really seeing it.

Footsteps behind him alerted him to a presence. He didn't turn, knowing who it was. The footsteps stopped and Eames sat on the bench beside Arthur. Neither of them spoke for a while, and neither made any effort to touch. They just sat, staring at the rain. Physically, they were two separate entities, but at that moment in time, emotionally, they were one.

Eventually, Arthur reached out and placed his hand on top of Eames', never once looking anywhere other than straight ahead. They both stayed there until their time ran out. A second later, they were back on the plane. It was nerve-wracking and heart-breaking, waiting to see if Cobb and Saito would wake up. When they did, Arthur couldn't contain his grin, relief flooding through his entire body at the knowledge that they'd all pulled through; that Cobb was alive.

They all got through Immigration control without a hitch, even Cobb, which made Arthur beam. He was going home to James and Philippa. Eames sported a matching grin, which he flashed at Cobb, equally as overjoyed for him. Ariadne and Saito both went their separate ways, back to Paris and Japan. Each of them left without a word, but they would all stay in touch. They'd all struck up an unusual friendship whilst planning the job, which had been consolidated by the danger of the dream. None of them would even consider working with anyone else now.

Eames acquired a trolley, and grabbed his bag from the carousel, then waited near the doors for Arthur. He'd kept his distance during the last week of the first layer because he hadn't wanted to intrude on his grief. But now, everything had worked out exactly as planned, more or less, and they were going for a drink.

Cobb walked past him, but Eames only had eyes for Arthur. Yusuf left for Mombasa a few moments later, nodding at Eames as he left. Finally, Arthur arrived, with his bag and briefcase.

"Sorry for the delay. I had to retrieve my briefcase." He motioned to the trolley. Eames knew it was the PASIV, and nodded.

"Shall we go for a drink then, Arthur?" Eames walked out of the airport, looking for a taxi. "We should drop our luggage off somewhere first. Do you know any hotels… _mph_!"

Arthur cut the forger off by slamming his lips against the forger's in a bruising kiss. Momentarily taken by surprise, Eames had made an unusual noise, but the next minute he was kissing Arthur back eagerly. He broke the kiss after a few minutes, and raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

"Not that I didn't appreciate it, darling, but what was that for?"

"Because I wanted to. We've wasted so much time already, because I was too scared to admit how I felt in case it didn't work between us. _Fuck_ , Eames, I want this and I want _you_." He choked.

"And if it doesn't work?" Eames pressed, curious.

"Then I took a chance which didn't pay off." Arthur said, simply. Eames studied his face, looking for the slightest doubt or hesitancy. Arthur ensured he found none. Eames held out his hand, and felt warmth spread through him when Arthur took it.

"Drink, Mr Eames?"

Eames looked at him, slyly. "You're buying, darling."

They smiled at each other, the sun shining down on them in the crowded street, but they didn't spare anyone a glance. They only had eyes for each other. It had taken them a long time to get there, but now nothing could come between them. Tomorrow was only a stone's throw away, but they would meet it, together.


	2. When The City Sleeps

They decided to take things slow.

Arthur knew only too well how easily the pressure of their jobs made relationships fall apart. Whilst he'd never actually experienced it, he'd witnessed it many times. So it was out of the desire to save their friendship that he'd suggested to Eames that they dated first.

"If it doesn't work out then at least we can be friends." Arthur finished, staring at Eames expectantly, waiting for the forger to disagree. Eames looked thoughtful for a moment, but Arthur was patient.

"Alright, darling." Eames said eventually, smiling at the point man. Arthur was surprised at his immediate agreement. He'd been braced to argue his point for a lot longer.

"You agree?" He asked, suspiciously, not trusting Eames' motives.

"Well, I wouldn't say I _agree_ , darling, but I understand your point, and it can't do any harm. Either way, things will work out the way I want them, so why should I make waves?" Eames shrugged.

Arthur bit back a smile, but kissed the forger gently.

"I appreciate it."

Eames grinned. "So where are you taking me for our first date then, darling?"

* * *

They decided on a restaurant. After all, Eames had suggested, it was the typical thing to do. Arthur had laughed and pointed out that they weren't exactly a typical couple.

Choosing the restaurant itself had been a trial. Arthur wanted to go somewhere romantic and upper class, like a typical Italian restaurant. Eames didn't want to go somewhere he would be forced into a suit and tie. Arthur argued that it was classy. Eames argued that if they were dating, they should go somewhere they could be themselves. Eventually, they reached a compromise and found somewhere that was suitable to both. Eames would still have to dress smartly, but he didn't have to be in full eveningwear. The atmosphere was classy, but casual enough that they could relax.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, the evening progressed well. Eames had actually taken care when choosing his shirt, and didn't stand out. Arthur had chosen to dispel his usual immaculate image and hadn't worn a tie, leaving the first two buttons of his shirt open, exposing his pale neck. Eames stared at the uncovered skin hungrily, wondering what it would be like to run his tongue over the smooth skin, and whether Arthur would object.

Arthur cleared his throat, drawing Eames' attention away from his neck. Eames looked up to meet Arthur's gaze, noting the point man's amusement.

"Sorry?" Eames asked, dazedly. "I was distracted. What did you say?"

Arthur shook his head fondly and repeated himself. "I asked if you were eating. You haven't looked at your menu."

Eames looked down at the menu, dumbly. "Oh. Sorry." He picked it up and began perusing it, deciding to have a steak. He opened his mouth to ask Arthur what he was having, when a shout drew their attention.

"Arthur! Eames!"

They turned and saw Ariadne and Cobb making their way over. Arthur hissed under his breath, but Eames caught it, surprised the point man was so dismayed to see his friends, particularly Cobb. They hadn't expected him to leave his kids for at least six months. It hadn't even been two months since they'd landed in LA after the inception job. As they drew closer, Eames noticed neither Ariadne nor Cobb looked surprised to see them here. Realisation dawning, he turned to Arthur.

"Darling?" He asked pleasantly. "Please tell me Cobb and Ariadne are here for a job, and they're not gatecrashing our date?"

Arthur groaned, and didn't answer. It was abundantly clear that he'd let slip their destination, and either Cobb or Ariadne hadn't realised it was a date. Sighing patiently, Eames turned back to their approaching friends, resigned to the fact that their date was over. His usual cheeky grin appeared as he rose to greet them.

"Cobb! Ariadne! Please, sit down. Fancy seeing you here!"

They sat, exchanging handshakes and affectionate hugs. Eames' disappointment that his date was over faded with the delight of seeing their friends again. He was quite fond of Ariadne. His anger at Cobb over his reckless attitude during the inception had still been present when the man had walked through the restaurant, but as he'd sat down, it was clear that a different man was sitting in front of them Being back with his children had clearly agreed with Cobb. After Mal died Cobb had always seemed as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but now, his posture had relaxed and there was a constant twinkle in his eye which betrayed his underlying happiness. From the faint flush on Ariadne's cheeks every time Cobb smiled at her, it was clear to both Arthur and Eames that it was more than reuniting with his children that was responsible for his happiness.

"They'll be good for each other." Eames murmured to Arthur. He frowned as Arthur flinched visibly.

"What's wrong, darling?" He asked, concerned. Arthur ignored him, striking up a conversation with Ariadne. Taken aback, Eames blinked twice, then turned to talk to Cobb.

"So when did this happen?" He gestured between Cobb and Ariadne. He was interested, but his hurt from Arthur's blatant dismissal left him feeling unable to join in a conversation. Cobb smiled, looking at Ariadne, before animatedly recounting his trip to Paris with the kids to Eames, and how Ariadne had invited them over to visit and the kids had adored her. Eames nodded and smiled, but his mind was fixed firmly on the man sitting next to him. The waiter approached them to take their order. Eames decided on the steak after all and noticed Arthur ordered salmon.

"So what's the deal with you and Arthur?" Cobb asked, an eyebrow raised. Eames shrugged, frowning.

"Not sure myself, if I'm honest, mate. Arthur's bloody difficult to read."

Cobb nodded, understanding. "Yeah, I know what you mean. But he doesn't have dinner with just anyone."

Eames smiled sadly. "I know. But considering he invited you both to our date, and has been pointedly ignoring me ever since, I'm not expecting much."

Cobb's jaw dropped. "Date?" He stammered. "Oh shit, Eames, we didn't know or we'd never have…"

Eames waved his arm dismissively. "I know, I know. Don't worry about it. I don't blame you or Ariadne. Or even Arthur. I'm just confused, that's all."

"We weren't technically invited anyway." Cobb said, thoughtfully. "He just mentioned you'd be here and Ariadne thought it would be a lovely idea for us all to get together."

Eames nodded, having suspected as much already. He just didn't understand what he'd done to deserve being ignored. He shrugged again, but was saved from having to respond as their meals arrived. Conversation lapsed as everyone began eating. Eames turned to speak to Arthur, who only replied with one word answers. Eames could feel his temper rising at Arthur's obvious rudeness.

Ariadne laughed. "Eames, what have you done for Arthur to put you in the doghouse this time?"

Eames stared at Arthur as he answered. "Trust me, Ariadne, I'd like to know just as much as you."

A flush creeped up Arthur's neck, but he busied himself with his food, and Eames scowled. He stood up swiftly.

"If you'll excuse me, I must visit the bathroom." He abandoned his meal, head swiftly for the men's room. Bypassing the cubicles, he ran the tap and splashed some water on his face. He glanced in the mirror, and saw Arthur behind him. He stared at the point man, coolly.

"I'm sure you don't need help unzipping your trousers, so what do you want, Arthur?"

Arthur frowned. "You're not in the doghouse."

Eames stared at him incredulously. "You've ignored me for this whole dinner, and yet I'm not in the doghouse? Please, Arthur, explain how your mind works. Because I'm _bloody_ confused here." He gritted his teeth.

"I didn't want Cobb and Ariadne to know anything unless we were certain." Arthur admitted, staring at his shoes.

Eames just stared, internally debating the pros and cons of decking the point man. He was sure if he punched him, Arthur would suffer no lasting damage. A bruised cheek and matching pride, but that would damage their relationship quite a lot. He dismissed the idea, acknowledging that Arthur would probably pull a gun on him.

"So instead of telling me this, you decided to ignore me for the whole dinner instead? How is that in any way logical?" His tone was cutting and Arthur visibly flinched.

"Look, Eames, I just don't want to advertise this to everyone until we're sure of where it's going."

Eames clenched his fists. "So why not tell me? Bloody hell, Arthur, how can you expect this relationship to work if you won't open up and tell me that?"

Arthur didn't respond, and Eames' temper finally exploded. He reached in his jacket pocket for his car keys and tossed them at Arthur, who caught them instinctively. The point man frowned.

"What are these for?" He asked.

Eames scowled at him.

"Drive yourself home. I'll pick it up tomorrow." He snapped, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Arthur asked, quietly. Eames paused to look at him.

"For a drink. Tell Cobb and Ariadne it was lovely to see them and I'm sorry I've had to dash off."

Arthur stared at him, hurt filling his expression. Eames chose to ignore it, his anger overruling his feelings for the point man. It really was pathetic, that they'd argued over nothing, but Eames was furious and wanted some space. It was clear to the point man that nothing he could say would make Eames stay and finish the meal.

"Where should I say you've gone?" Arthur said eventually, head bowed.

"To be quite honest, Arthur? That's not my fucking problem." Eames swept out of the door and left the restaurant.

Arthur headed back to the table, suddenly tired.

"Where's Eames?" Ariadne asked.

"We had a fight. He left." Arthur admitted. He held up a hand when Ariadne began to offer her sympathy. "Don't worry about it, we'll sort it out."

"When did you eventually get together?" She asked, hoping to cheer Arthur up. A slight smile came to his face.

"We were always together. It just took me a long time to realise it." He confessed. "He saved my life once. In a dream, I mean. He took a bullet meant for me, and refused to let me wake him. He kissed me, so I shot him anyway."

Ariadne was staring, eyes wide. Even Cobb was surprised. Arthur had never shared anything about his unusual relationship with Eames, so hearing the story was a first for Cobb and Ariadne.

"I fought against him so hard for so long." Arthur whispered. "It took the threat of limbo for him to tell me what he wanted and for me to realise that I'd needed him the whole time."

"Then what are you doing here? Go after him." Ariadne instructed gently. Arthur stared at her, like it was the first time he'd seen her.

"Yeah. I think I will." He murmured. He stood quickly, tossing some bills down on the table to cover the meal. "We should have dinner tomorrow and catch up properly. My place."

He quickly exited the restaurant, his phone in his hand before he'd even got through the door. It only took a few minutes to have a location for Eames. He was only a few blocks away, so Arthur walked, revelling in the fresh air. He wasn't expecting a friendly reception from Eames, but he hoped they could sort things out.

Eames was in a dingy bar, full of less-than-savoury people, nursing a scotch. Arthur rolled his eyes. Where else would he be? He sat down across from the forger, who didn't look up.

"If my exit wasn't clear enough, I did want to be alone." Eames said icily, staring into his drink as if it held the answer.

Arthur didn't react to Eames' tone, just waited until the forger met his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He said, softly. "I was petty and stupid and I don't want us to fight."

Eames laughed, scornfully. "A little late for that, don't you think? Go home Arthur."

Arthur sighed, but didn't move. A few seconds later, the forger wilted visibly.

"What do you want from me, Arthur? We've been dancing around each other for years. And just when I thought we were getting somewhere, this happens."

"I don't want anything from you, _except_ you." Arthur said firmly. "This was my mistake and I want us to be okay, Eames. Can we go home? Please?"

Eames nodded and they left, silently.

They drove home in equal silence, each lost in their thoughts. Arthur drove Eames to the house the forger had bought when he'd first moved to LA and ensured he got inside safely. Then he headed back to his apartment. He removed his jacket and tie, and sat in his kitchen, sipping a glass of wine.

Their first date had been a disaster, more eventful than he'd wanted. He just needed to ensure their second went better.

* * *

"No, Eames. I am _not_ going to see a zombie movie." Arthur said firmly. "If we must go to the movies, then I want to see something tasteful."

Eames pouted, but Arthur refused to give in. There was nothing he despised more than a clichéd horror movie, unless it was a clichéd horror movie with _zombies_.

"Fine." Eames relented. "What do you want to see then?"

Arthur scanned the list. "What about this one?"

Eames leaned over to take a closer look and groaned. "Only _you_ would want to see a silent movie. We were created with ears for a reason, darling. What about the new Bond movie?"

Arthur turned, an eyebrow raised daringly.

"Fine, fine." Eames dismissed the idea. "It was just a suggestion. Keep your braces on."

Arthur gritted his teeth and counted to ten mentally, reiterating to himself that it was detrimental to their relationship if he shot Eames in the kneecap, regardless of how infuriating the forger was.

"What's this one?" Eames leaned over to look at the screen again, oblivious to Arthur's exasperation. "Nah, that's a chick flick. What about that sci-fi one?"

Arthur looked at it, with low expectations. To his surprise, it looked halfway decent.

"Alright." He agreed. "Tonight?"

Eames was surprised, having expected Arthur to refuse. He had assumed they would spend at least an hour debating what to see.

"Great!" He said excitedly. Arthur smiled at his enthusiasm, and pressed a kiss to the forger's lips. Eames glanced at him, affectionately. Both of them were hoping this date would go better than their first, and neither of them could see why it shouldn't.

So when the evening came, Arthur changed into dark jeans and a light shirt, with a brown leather jacket. Eames was wearing faded jeans and a white t-shirt. For once, they had to meet no expectations. They weren't the point man and the forger and they didn't have to wear suits or ties and know which fork to use. They were just Arthur and Eames, two regular people, on a date.

Arthur drove, his black Audi smoothly slowing to a halt.

"I'll get the tickets." Eames said, stepping out of the car. "No, don't argue, darling. You paid for the meal last week, and don't pretend you let Cobb pay, because we both know better."

"Fine. But I get the popcorn." Arthur compromised.

Eames shrugged. "Suit yourself."

They stepped into the foyer and Eames went to buy their tickets. Arthur stood, wondering whether Eames would want salty or sweet popcorn. He was still deliberating when someone knocked into his arm roughly.

"Watch it, fag." A dark-haired man spat. Arthur narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"Excuse me?" He said quietly, his hand twitching. Arthur wished he'd brought his gun. The man turned around, sneering.

"You heard me. I said _watch it, fag_." He said viciously.

"Yes, he heard what you said. And so did I." Eames was suddenly standing at Arthur's elbow, looking furious. His fists were clenched.

"Eames, leave it." Arthur murmured, warningly. "Come on, let's just see the movie." He reached for the forger's elbow, but Eames shrugged it off, unwilling to back away from the confrontation. He barely noticed Arthur's attempts to drag him away, glaring at the man who actually had the audacity to insult his lover.

"And just _what_ exactly are you going to do about it?" The stranger straightened up, a few inches taller than Eames.

Eames smiled pleasantly, throwing the man off-guard, but Arthur could still sense the underlying fury radiating from the forger.

"Well that depends." Eames' tone was pleasant, matching his smile. "I like to think I'm a reasonable bloke. Polite even." He considered his words. "Yeah, polite. You have two seconds to apologise to Arthur or I'm going to politely ensure that you never eat anything but soup again." He growled, eyes narrowed. The man took a step back instinctively, then laughed scornfully.

"Make me, queer."

Eames nodded thoughtfully, then punched him squarely in the mouth, effectively knocking the stranger to the floor and removing his two front teeth. Arthur reacted quickly, grabbing Eames' arms and pinning them behind his back. He didn't want to get a public brawl. Unfortunately, it was too late. The man spat blood and stood up, swinging a punch at Eames' head. The forger ducked easily, and Arthur was forced to let go. He spotted two LAPD cops heading towards them and sighed, knowing he needed to get out of this.

He ducked out of the crowed that had surrounded the brawlers, leaving Eames to fight alone. It was against his better judgement, but it was clear that Eames was going to be arrested, and someone needed to pull some strings. Moving out of the cinema quickly, he dialled a number he'd memorised.

"Saito, its Arthur. I need a favour. Yeah, Eames is about to get arrested. Any chance you can pull some strings?" He spoke quickly.

Saito laughed good-humouredly, and assured him he would make the call immediately. Arthur pocketed his phone, and moved quickly back to Eames' side, who was in the middle of being handcuffed. Aside from bloody knuckles, he was unscathed. Arthur was furious with the forger for involving himself in a brawl. They weren't in high school. Regardless of how angry he was over the insult, violence didn't solve anything.

"You fucking _idiot_." Arthur hissed venomously at Eames.

Eames shrugged, disinterested in Arthur's opinion. As far as he was concerned, he'd defended his lover and had done nothing wrong, regardless of the fact that he could face an assault charge. The cops led Eames firmly to their car.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and followed them down to the Police Department in his own car. It took twenty-five minutes for Saito's influence to reach the LAPD, but eventually Eames was released. He strolled towards Arthur's car casually, and for a brief moment, the point man debated driving away.

When Eames slid into the car, Arthur glared at him. Eames tried to look contrite, but failed. He sighed.

"Look, darling, you really couldn't expect me to do nothing. He insulted you. If I had to I would do it again."

Arthur exploded. "Then you can get yourself out of fucking jail next time! You realise you can be deported if you cause trouble here? I fucking _like_ living here, Eames!"

"Darling," Eames began, but Arthur cut him off.

"I don't even want to hear it. Shut the fuck up or you can walk home." Arthur snapped.

They drove home in silence, and when they pulled up outside Eames' house, the forger stepped out without a word. Arthur sighed and opened the window.

"Eames." He called. The forger turned back.

"No, Arthur. You've made it perfectly clear how you feel. Forgive me for wanting to defend my boyfriend."

He let himself in and closed the door firmly. Arthur got out of the car and knocked on the door. Eames didn't answer. Arthur tried the door half-heartedly. It was locked. He knocked again.

"Eames, let me in. We should really talk about this." Arthur called through the door. There was no response.

Arthur sighed sadly, shaking his head. He headed back to the car and pulled away. Eames stood at the window, watching Arthur pull away miserably. As Arthur drove back to his apartment, his chest felt heavy. Maybe dating wasn't such a good idea after all. All it seemed to prove was that they weren't as compatible as they thought.

* * *

"The theatre?" Eames frowned. "Really?"

They were in London, having just finished an extraction. Eames had taken the role of extractor, since a forger wasn't required and Arthur had taken over the role of architect, as well as running point as usual. Their usual exit strategy was to leave the city immediately after a job, but this time Arthur had tentatively suggested they stay and look around the city where Eames grew up.

At Arthur's nod, the forger looked thoughtful. If it made Arthur happy, he was happy to go along with it. Even though he himself had no interest in theatre, he would do anything to help their relationship pick up. After the disaster of their first two dates, both Eames and Arthur had feared things were coming to an end before they even started. Neither of them had discussed the problems they'd faced, but Eames was unwilling to lose Arthur when he fought for him so long, and Arthur was equally as determined not to lose Eames when he'd fought against him since their very first kiss.

"Alright. Book something you want to see." Eames agreed. Arthur smiled at him and clicked the mouse a few times.

"There's still some tickets left for Avenue Q tonight. I think you'd like it. It's about puppets. Like an adult version of Sesame Street. It's pretty funny."

Eames cocked his head intrigued. "And here I thought you would want to see something upper class like Miss Saigon or Les Miserables. You always surprise me, darling."

Arthur laughed; a deep throaty sound that reverberated through Eames' body. Eames stared at his partner. Sometimes he found it hard to believe that Arthur was here with him. He reached for his totem and flipped it, checking that this was reality. He tried to make the motion casual, but from the way Arthur glanced at him smiling, it was clear that he wasn't successful.

"I feel like that sometimes too." Arthur said quietly. He reached out and placed his hand over Eames'. "I wake up and have to check my totem three or four times before I realise that it's not a dream; that you actually want me."

Eames wrapped his arm around Arthur and pressed his face into his neck. "Did you ever doubt otherwise?" He murmured, brushing his lips over Arthur's throat. The point man shuddered at the contact and moved closer. Eames grinned and pulled away.

"Tease." Arthur scowled. Eames looked unabashed, so Arthur just rolled his eyes and booked the tickets.

"We should take a look around London until the show starts, Arthur. There's so much I'd like to show you." Eames grinned, excited at the prospect of sharing a big part of his life with Arthur.

Arthur smiled. "I'd like to see where you grew up. What influences shaped you into the corrigible man I'm so fond of." He teased.

Eames grinned, triumphantly. "I'm rather fond of you too, darling. Now, come on, let's go and sightsee."

Arthur's brown eyes twinkled, his good-humour evident. "I'm not sure if I trust you to know the way. Maybe we should hire a tour guide. I'm sure I can find a number here somewhere." He turned back to his laptop, biting back a grin as he pretended to search for a number. In an instant, he found himself pinned between Eames and the chair, the forger pressed against him.

"You know, Arthur, I love it when you're like this." Eames murmured. He leaned forwards so his lips were less than an inch away from Arthur's, whose eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. He felt Eames' breath, hot against his face. "But guess what, darling? I can tease you just as well." He stroked a finger down Arthur's cheek and then stepped back.

Arthur opened his eyes, flushed and angry. Eames laughed to see Arthur totally without composure.

"Goddamnit Eames, come back here and kiss me." Arthur ordered. Eames blinked, then grinned again.

"With pleasure." He swooped down and pressed his lips to Arthur's, wrapping his arms around the small of the point man's back. Arthur's hands moved to entwine themselves in Eames' hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Eagerly, Eames' hand slid up Arthur's shirt and stroked his back. Arthur moaned and Eames took the opportunity to slide his tongue into the point man's mouth. It was hot, passionate, needy. Eames felt his body respond to Arthur's, his erection digging into his lover's hip. He shifted slightly, to ensure Arthur didn't feel pressured in any way.

The point man was having none of it, and pulled Eames close to him, allowing the forger to feel his own hardness. Arthur's hands moved up to unbutton Eames shirt. He'd only managed to undo two buttons when his phone rang. Eames pulled away, blinking in surprise as Arthur reached for his phone.

"Arthur speaking." He answered sharply. Eames was jealous of the way Arthur could compose himself instantly. Well, not quite. He amended. The point man's eyes were still dark with lust, and his lips were swollen. Eames had no doubt that when he looked in the mirror, he would be completely dishevelled.

"I'm going in the shower." He signalled to Arthur, who nodded once. Eames disappeared into the bathroom, intending to take care of the problem his make-out session with Arthur had caused.

Arthur's desire, however, had disappeared the moment he'd answered the phone. He'd recognised the number, which only meant bad news. He moved quietly over to the bathroom door, and listened quietly. He could only faintly hear the water running, which meant that Eames couldn't hear him.

"And you're sure? In Paris?" He asked tightly. "Where was he heading?"

"London." Jacques said. "We can have you on a plane within the hour if you give the order?"

Arthur thought for a moment. It would be safer if they both left now, but they couldn't go back to Los Angeles. They would have to relocate every few weeks, until the threat dissipated. But Arthur really wanted to spend time with Eames, get to know more about his childhood. He would leave the decision up to Eames.

He sighed. "Keep an eye out. I'll have to talk it over with Eames. Thank you." He hung up.

"Talk what over with Eames?"

He turned to see the forger standing in the middle of the room, a towel wrapped tightly around his waist, eyebrow raised. Arthur's mouth went dry as he ran his eyes over the forger's tattoos and his eyes darkened again. Eames grinned.

"Never had you pegged for a tattoo fan, darling."

Arthur blinked and forced his eyes away from the ink covering Eames' torso. "Get dressed. We're leaving, now."

They were already packed, both of them lived out of suitcases when they were on jobs. Eames folded his arms and didn't move.

"Mind telling me why, first?" He queried. "Rather sudden, don't you think?"

Arthur sighed, hand twitching towards his gun. It was the first time since the Fischer job that Arthur had had to resist the urge to take out Eames' kneecaps.

"Eames, we don't have time to argue. Get dressed."

Eames raised an eyebrow. "And then you'll tell me everything?" Arthur nodded.

Eames slipped a shirt on, buttoning it quickly. He fished out some underwear and found some decent trousers, keeping the towel fixed firmly until he was decent. Accidentally exposing himself to Arthur, while it would be fun, was detrimental to the curiosity he felt, and he wasn't entirely sure that Arthur wouldn't castrate him if he tried to seduce him at that moment in time. He put his socks and shoes on, and then turned to Arthur expectantly.

"Okay, listen. Someone has been trying to find you. They've been looking for about nine months, way before inception. They never came anywhere close, so I didn't bother mentioning it."

Eames nodded. A lot of people were looking for them; it wasn't unusual in their line of business. Arthur was responsible for ensuring they didn't manage it, and up until now he had always been successful.

"I assume since you're telling me, they now pose a threat. Who is it?" Eames asked, smiling.

Arthur hesitated and Eames' smile faded. "Hans Armstrong."

Eames frowned. "But Armstrong is…."

"Not dead." Arthur shook his head. "Benson is dead. Armstrong survived. He was checked into a hospital in Prague with a bullet wound to the chest. My aim must have been off." He bowed his head in shame. Eames fought the urge to comfort him, knowing Arthur wouldn't appreciate it. They'd both fucked up by not checking that Armstrong was actually dead.

"How close is close?" Eames said finally. Arthur sighed and looked Eames directly in the eye.

"He's on his way to London now." Arthur admitted. Eames was taken aback, but forced his surprise down. Arthur had never let anyone get this close before.

"So what's our options?" Eames asked. He wasn't scared. Armstrong was dangerous, he knew that, but he and Arthur made a formidable team. Even if by some miracle, Armstrong managed to find them, he wouldn't even get a grip on his gun before they'd have him riddled with bullets.

"Lay low, wait till he gets bored, or let him find us and take him out." Arthur knew from the moment he suggested it that Eames would never go on the run, in the same way he knew that he wouldn't either. They would both face Armstrong head on.

"Then I suppose we better check out. We have a show to catch." Eames said. He paused, uncertainly.

"What is it?" Arthur pressed, recognising that there was something the forger wanted to say.

"We can kill him easily. I'd bet my life that we can walk away from this." Eames paused again.

"But?" Arthur prompted, wondering what the issue was.

"But I'm not sure I'm willing to bet your life on it. This is my mess, Arthur. Nothing would change between us if I handled this alone."

Arthur was taken aback, and then fury pulsed through him. "Yes it would." He snapped. "Because I'm not going _anywhere_. I shot him, Eames. When he finds you, he's going to want to know who shot him, which makes it my mess too. Regardless of that," he continued, angrily. "You are my _partner_. In _all_ senses of the word, which means we're in this together. If we're not, then we end it now. Am I clear?"

"Crystal." Eames said softly, and pressed a gently kiss to Arthur's lips, who received it stiffly. "Come on, let's go to the theatre."

They checked out and returned the hire car, recognising that Armstrong could trace it back to them. Even though they weren't avoiding him, they weren't going to make it easy for him to find them. They took public transport, Arthur experiencing how hectic the London Underground was for the first time. Neither of them fully relaxed until they were settled in the theatre. It wasn't likely that Armstrong would trace them to the theatre and even if he did, it was too public for him to start shooting.

Eames took Arthur's hand, who sat stiffly, ignoring him.

"Darling, I've clearly offended you and that wasn't my intention. I just wanted to be sure we were on the same page." Eames apologised.

Arthur's gaze softened and he smiled slightly at the forger. "You're forgiven. Come on, I think you'll enjoy this."

Arthur was right; Eames thought. Avenue Q was hilarious. Right up his street. By the time the interval came, his sides were hurting from laughing so much.

"Darling, this is fantastic. I'll never doubt your taste again."

Arthur laughed. "You will and we'll fight over it many times. But I'll admit; I'm enjoying seeing the British version."

Eames smiled at his partner affectionately. He felt someone move close behind him and his army training struck. His hand flew out and caught the wrist that was extended to grab his shoulder. Arthur's gun flew into his hand and he trained it on the man that now posed a threat to them. Eames sneered.

"Armstrong." He greeted, coldly.

"Eames." Armstrong nodded, equally as coldly. "And you must be Arthur. I'd keep that gun hidden if I were you. Someone might see."

"This is between me and you, Armstrong. Leave him out of it." Eames said coldly, all traces of his former humour gone.

Armstrong smirked. "Oh, I don't think so. You see, I did some digging. And it's decidedly convenient that Arthur here owns a house in Prague, only a few blocks away from that godforsaken alley I was shot in. It doesn't take a genius to work out who pulled the trigger."

Arthur exhaled quietly. How the fuck did Armstrong find out about his apartment in Prague? It wasn't even in his name, nor any alias he used. It was registered as empty, but not available to rent.

"Fine." Arthur spoke up for the first time, his voice icy. "You're here, we're both armed. We have a stalemate. What do you want to do about it?"

Armstrong leaned closer, his eyes glinting dangerously. "We settle this after the performance. I think it only fair you enjoy your last evening together."

"How kind of you." Eames sneered. "Piss off then, so I can enjoy it."

Armstrong scowled. "Outside after the performance. There'll be a silver car. Get in it. Don't make me find you, Eames." He walked away just as the lights dimmed and the second half of the performance started.

Eames looked at Arthur who met his gaze steadily.

"Side door, ten minutes?" Eames asked tersely. Arthur nodded and squeezed his lovers hand in an attempt to help him calm down.

Eames couldn't entirely relax, but the contact reassured him. He clutched Arthur's hand like it was his lifeline, lingering for a few moments before he left. Arthur joined him in the foyer after ten minutes.

"Don't go for the car. Walk down the street. He'll follow. Head somewhere quiet. I want this on our terms."

Eames nodded.

"Do you have your gun?" Arthur asked briskly. Eames laughed, humourlessly.

"Of course. Usual getaway?" At Arthur's nod, they made their way outside. As they reached the door, Arthur stopped. Eames followed suit, turning around quickly, his hand on his gun as his eyes scanned the area. When he realised there was no threat, he turned to Arthur questioningly. Correctly interpreting the expression on Arthur's face, he frowned.

"Don't even go there, Arthur." Eames said fiercely. "This will go exactly the way we planned. You don't need to say a goodbye."

Arthur nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from his partner's. "I just thought I should give us the option." He murmured.

"There's nothing I need to hear that I didn't already know." Eames said seriously. He pressed a lingering kiss to his partner's lips. Arthur stared at him softly, then turned to the door. They left, heading away from the silver car parked across the street.

A few steps away, Arthur stiffened, then pulled Eames to the floor, just as a gunshot went off. Rather than chase them, Armstrong had decided to open fire instead. The effect was instantaneous as passers-by began screaming and running away from the shots. Eames and Arthur reacted quickly, producing their respective guns from their waistband and firing. Arthur's first pierced the windscreen and his second found its way into the dead centre of the driver's forehead. Eames was aiming for Armstrong, who had quickly exited the car and running in the opposite direction. His shots kept missing as Armstrong displayed an uncanny ability to avoid bullets. Arthur scrambled up and gave chase, Eames just behind him.

Armstrong rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. When Arthur and Eames arrived at the corner, they saw nothing but an empty alley.

"Fuck." Arthur swore violently, and Eames kicked a bin viciously. The sound of sirens was drawing closer, and with them both carrying weapons, it was better not to be found near where there had been gunshots.

"Split. London City Airport." Arthur ordered, and Eames didn't argue. He ran down a side street without looking at his partner. His panic was instantaneous as they separated, but he knew it was necessary. If the police tracked them, they couldn't catch them both. He didn't stop running until he was at least a mile away from the theatre. He stopped, panting, and hailed a taxi.

"London City Airport, please mate. And I'll double the fare if you get there quickly." He ordered.

It took him fifteen minutes to get to the airport, and, as promised, he paid the cab driver double the fair. A glance around told him there was no sign of Arthur. He lit a cigarette and waited impatiently. Every minute he waited for Arthur seemed like an eternity. Twenty minutes went by, and Eames had managed to smoke four cigarettes.

He had complete and utter faith in Arthur's ability to keep himself out of trouble, but with every passing second, he began to fear the worst. Taxis kept arriving, but there was still no sign of Arthur. Tears pricked Eames' eyes as he began to doubt himself.

"I should never have left him alone." He whispered, stubbing out his fifth cigarette.

Another taxi drew up, and this time, Arthur stepped out. He found himself instantly enveloped in a hug.

"Darling." Eames mumbled into his neck, relieved the point man was alright. "You're okay."

"Was there ever any doubt?" Arthur murmured back, pressing a kiss to his lover's neck. "I called Jacques and we have a private flight in twenty minutes. Let's get back to LA. Much less fucking eventful."

Eames laughed and they headed into the airport. "Will we ever have a date that goes well, darling?"

Arthur grinned. "Not fucking likely."

They found their plane and boarded quickly. Within a few minutes of take-off, both Arthur and Eames were asleep, exhausted from the eventful night. Normal couples might have counted their date as a disaster, and in some respects, they agreed. But the night had been dangerous, risky and entirely fucked-up. And that was the way they liked it.

* * *

The next time they went on a date was in Paris, two weeks later. This time, they arrived early and decided to sightsee _after_ the job, in case they had to make another hasty getaway and had to risk the job. This time, Eames suggested it.

"It's the city of lovers, darling. The most romantic city in the world, and it's their landmark. If it really doesn't strike you as romantic, we at least have the notion that it looks like a giant phallus." Eames waggled his eyebrows.

"You know, the majority of the French actually hate the Eiffel tower." Arthur said, conversationally. He repressed his fifth yawn in as many minutes, ignoring Eames' remark about its resemblance. "And I fail to see what's romantic about taking a lift up to the top of an iron tower, standing in the freezing cold wind admiring the view and then taking the lift back down again."

Eames pouted. "Whoever said romance is dead _clearly_ dated you at some point, Arthur."

The point man sighed. "If it'll make you happy, we'll go."

Eames shrugged. "If you don't want to, we can always go somewhere else. The Louvre, for example."

Arthur's face lit up. He'd always wanted to have a proper look around the Louvre. But he was just so tired after their journey.

"How about a compromise?" He suggested. "We'll do the Eiffel Tower and then the Louvre after?"

Eames grinned happily. "Sounds good to me.

Arthur was tired. So tired. He'd kept ridiculous hours during the job and was now paying severely for it. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he'd promised that they would do some sightseeing. He severely regretted his decision, knowing they had to fly out to another job in the morning. Eames seemed fresh, because he hadn't gone twenty four hours without sleep like Arthur had. It was clear he was excited about their day, and Arthur hadn't wanted to let him down. So he followed without complaining.

When they arrived at the Eiffel Tower, Arthur marvelled at its size. He'd seen it before, from a distance, but he'd never actually been close enough to touch it. He stared at the huge iron tower, in awe.

"Stairs or lift, darling?" Eames asked. Arthur turned, warily.

"The elevator, please. Fucking hell, Eames, the queue is enormous. We'll be here all day!"

In the end, they only waited an hour and a half before they were ushered into the first lift. Arthur checked his watch and found that it was already half past eleven. If they wanted lunch and then to get to the Louvre, they would have to leave shortly. Arthur wasn't impressed by the landmark anyway. He said so to Eames.

Eames laughed. "You're just worried in case we don't get to the Louvre. Don't worry, darling, just give us fifteen minutes up here and we'll head off."

When they arrive at the top, Arthur had to admit, he was suitably impressed. The view was breath-taking and Arthur couldn't get enough of it, although the cold air did little to wake him up. Fifteen minutes soon turned into half an hour. At quarter past twelve, Eames glanced at his watch.

"Darling, perhaps we better leave. The Louvre shuts at six tonight and we have to account for lunch and travel."

Arthur tore his eyes away from the view and agreed. They headed to the lift and saw the queue was wrapped around the whole tower. Shit. It would take at least another hour to get back down, but they had no other choice. Reluctantly, they joined the queue. What had remained of Arthur's energy disappeared and he swayed slightly.

"Arthur, you're dead on your feet!" Eames exclaimed. He wrapped his arm around the point man and held him close. Arthur allowed his head to rest on the forger's shoulder, eyes closed.

Eames was equally as tired, but his military background had exposed him to lack of sleep, meaning he adjusted well to little amounts of shut-eye. Dreamsharing also had him under for long periods of time, which usually left him out of sorts. He reacted well to exhaustion, but Arthur hadn't had any such experience.

In the end, it took them three hours to get back to ground level. Eames supported Arthur most of the way. The point man clung tightly too him unashamedly, recognising that he didn't have the strength to stand on his own. His feet ached, his shoulders and knees felt stiff and he could barely keep his eyes open.

Eames frowned disapprovingly. He knew Arthur had overworked himself on the job; keeping to the bare minimum of sleep. He knew for a fact that Arthur had gotten no more than four hours sleep per night, and was close to dropping from sheer exhaustion, but the job had been risky and there had been no reasoning with the point man. Arthur had used the fact that his incomplete research had endangered the entire team on the Inception job, and he wasn't prepared to risk something like that again.

It was something Eames hadn't been able to argue with and Arthur knew it. So he had watched Arthur work himself to exhaustion and had been unable to do anything about it. His guilt was overwhelming at the thought that perhaps he should have realised that Arthur wouldn't have enough strength to deal with queues.

When they eventually reached the plaza, Eames signalled for a taxi.

"Arthur? Darling, I'm taking you back to the hotel. We can go to the Louvre another day. Right now, you need sleep."

Arthur mumbled something that Eames took as an agreement. He directed the taxi back to their hotel. Arthur stumbled out of the car while Eames paid, and his eyes fluttered shut. Eames sighed at his lover's stubborn streak. He should have admitted he was tired. Upon arrival at their room, Arthur collapsed into bed. Eames helped undressed the point man and covered him with the sheets.

"Was the worst date ever." Arthur mumbled, meaning to apologise for ruining the date. In his sleep-deprived haze, it came across as more of an insult, and Eames gawped unattractively.

"Well, if you'd actually bloody admitted you were tired, then I might have been able to do something about that. As it was, I don't see what else I could have done to make it any better."

He stormed out of the hotel room, and Arthur fell asleep immediately, too tired to chase after Eames and not actually sure he wanted to any more.

* * *

After the fight, it was a very uncomfortable few days for the entire team. They headed straight to Rome after they'd finished in Paris; Arthur and Eames still not speaking. Ariadne noticed the palpable tension between the two, but wisely chose not to comment. Cobb kept out of it, but shot disapproving looks at the both of them at random intervals. Yusuf, however, was oblivious to the strain between the couple and made a few wise cracks. Initially, both Eames and Arthur ignored them, but as the days wore on, they got worse. When they were packing up the warehouse, Eames snapped.

"Look, Yusuf, as much as I appreciate the suggestion that I show Arthur around Vatican City, at the minute, the only thing I want to show him is what my fist looks like when it's flying towards his stubborn bloody face. Okay?"

The warehouse went silent. Yusuf's jaw dropped, but he wasn't looking at Eames, he was looking straight past him. Eames turned to see Arthur, standing a few feet away from him, looking dumbstruck. A minute later, the flicker of emotion had vanished, leaving Arthur staring at Eames expressionless.

"Can I just assure you that the feeling is entirely mutual, Mr Eames." He stated, coldly. "I've already told you I didn't mean it like that."

"No." Eames sneered. "You meant it as an _apology_. Do you think I was born yesterday?"

Arthur surveyed him. "Yes. Grow the fuck up, Eames." He spun on his heel and walked away.

"Sometimes, Arthur, I wonder why the fuck we're together. We deal with more shit than anything else." Eames snapped. Arthur stopped dead, but didn't turn around. Eames looked stunned, like he couldn't believe what he'd said. Ariadne gasped, and it echoed around the warehouse. Everyone was staring. It was one line that everyone thought Eames would never cross. Ariadne couldn't believe he'd said it. He and Arthur were meant to be together, everyone knew that, but their strong personalities meant it could be something like this that could tip them over the edge and end their relationship.

After what seemed like decades, Arthur turned around to face the forger.

"If that's how you feel, then why don't we end it now?" He said quietly. Eames stiffened.

"If that's what you want." Eames shrugged. After a minute, his shoulders drooped miserably. "Is it?" As much as it would break his heart, if Arthur's wasn't in their relationship, then he didn't want to be part of it.

Silence. Then…

"No." Arthur admitted, eventually, bowing his head. "No, that's not at all what I want."

Everyone relaxed, visibly, including Eames, who moved towards Arthur quietly. Unwilling to eavesdrop, Ariadne took Cobb's hand and led him out of the warehouse. Yusuf followed.

"I'm sorry, Eames. I didn't mean it. Any of it." Arthur admitted.

"Me too, darling." He wrapped his arms around the point man, who melted in the embrace.

"Why don't we try again? Come over when we get back to LA. I'll cook." Arthur offered. Eames raised an eyebrow, grinning.

"I don't fancy chicken a la food poisoning, darling. I'll come over, but _I'll_ do the cooking."

"Deal." Arthur grinned, knowing he couldn't cook and they would have had to resort to ordering a takeaway.

They landed at LAX in record time, thanks to the private jet Arthur had arranged. Eames slipped home to get a few hours sleep before their date. He turned up, exactly on time, a bottle of wine and a paper bag of ingredients in tow.

"Darling." He nodded, kissing his lover. He shrugged off his jacket, and set to work in the kitchen.

"What are you making?" Arthur called, uncorking a bottle of his own wine and pouring them a glass each.

"I thought I'd make coq au vin. Since we made a mess of Paris and all that. What do you think?"

"Sounds good." Arthur agreed. "Need a hand?"

"Nah, you just go and relax. Your attempts in the kitchen are so disastrous you'd probably set the smoke alarm off simply by breathing." Eames grinned.

"Don't be fucking ridiculous." Arthur scowled. The smile slid off Eames' face in amazement as Arthur lost his temper over something so trivial. "I'm not that fucking hopeless, Eames. I _did_ manage before you came along, hard as that is to believe since you're so sure you're God's gift."

"I'm sorry." Eames offered, hoping to calm Arthur down by apologising, although he wasn't sure what he was meant to be sorry for. Arthur didn't look any less angry, but he refrained from snapping any further. Eames hesitated, unsure of whether to let Arthur help, or if it would only serve to provoke Arthur again.

"You can cube the bacon if you like." He said tentatively. Arthur nodded and set to work. They worked in silence, each lost to their own thoughts. Eames noted how well they worked together, but his heart clenched painfully at the thought. That was the problem, he thought. They worked well together. They just weren't compatible outside of the job. Ever since they'd started their relationship, they'd lost track of the good things about each other. They fought constantly, even before they'd got together they'd fought, but it had been teasing or the stress of the job. Now, they had no viable excuse. They just weren't getting on anymore.

Eames was brought out of his reverie as Arthur handed him a glass of wine.

"Thank you." He felt so lost. Arthur's place usually seemed so warm, inviting. Now he just felt like he didn't belong here. For as long as he'd known Arthur, he'd desired him, longed to be the one Arthur wanted. Now he had him, and it was falling apart in front of his eyes and he didn't know what to do. He sighed, and Arthur's eyes flew up to meet his.

"This isn't working, is it?" Arthur asked quietly, speaking the words that Eames didn't have the courage to. Eames shook his head numbly.

"What gave it away?" He joked feebly, but neither of them could raise a smile.

"The fact that I've been watching you for the last ten minutes, and I realised I don't even know who you are any more, Eames."

Eames blinked. "I haven't changed, Arthur. This is how I've always been."

Arthur shook his head. "I know that. But my perception of you…my perception of _us_ has."

The words hit Eames hard, although he recognised the truth in them. His feelings for Arthur hadn't faded at all, but it was clear that it wasn't working. He swallowed, and nodded his agreement, sadness visible in every line on his face.

"So what happens now?" He said at last. "I waited a long time for this, Arthur. Six years of stolen kisses before I could call you mine. I… I don't want to have wasted all that time."

Arthur's expression softened. "I know, Eames. But we can't carry on like this. It's getting to the point where we're at risk of losing our friendship and I don't want that."

"I don't either." Eames took a step forward to embrace Arthur, but the timer interrupted, signalling that their meal was ready. Eames dropped his arm, smiling sadly at Arthur, before turning off the stove top. "Shall we eat?" He asked, gesturing to the coq au vin. "It would be a shame to waste it."

"Sure." Arthur nodded, although he felt like a brick had settled in his stomach, leaving him not the slightest bit hungry. He didn't want to break up with Eames. He wasn't sure what he wanted to happen. Half of him wanted Eames to scream at him, tell him that they were being ridiculous and drag him to bed. The other half wanted the forger to pull him into his arms and promise that everything would work out. But not a single part of him wanted them to go their separate ways. But it seemed to him that Eames wanted to call it a day and, although it would break his heart, Arthur didn't want Eames to feel obligated to continue in a relationship that was making him unhappy.

Eames scooped two generous helpings onto two plates and set them on Arthur's table. They each sat, but none of them made a move to eat, choosing instead to stare across the table at each other. Eventually Eames pushed his plate away, untouched.

"What happens now, Arthur? I can't just sit here like nothing's happening." He was hoping desperately that they could talk through their issues, but he knew that wouldn't happen. Arthur seemed set on ending their relationship, and Eames was trying to maintain some pride. Six years he'd been in love with Arthur, and it would devastate him to lose the point man after such a short time together.

Arthur picked up his wine glass and drained it. He shuddered, eyes closing briefly, before he turned to Eames. Determined to do right by Eames, he spoke the words that would end their relationship and break his heart in the process.

"I guess we call it quits then. I hope we can still maintain our friendship." He adopted a casual approach, but inside, he was screaming.

Eames stared, unblinking. In one swift motion, he rose, replacing his wine glass on the table. "Of course. It would take more than this to damage our friendship, Arthur." It took all of his strength to force a genuine grin onto his face. "I better head home. People to see and all that."

"Stay and have dinner?" Arthur frowned. "You went to all that trouble, the least we can do is have dinner together."

"No, no. I couldn't possibly. As a matter of fact, I have a meeting early tomorrow with Jacques, so I'm going to make sure I get a good night's sleep."

He slipped his jacket back on and headed for the door. As he turned to say goodbye to Arthur, his mask slipped and the hurt and dismay he was really feeling suddenly became visible for Arthur to see. Instantly, Arthur realised his mistake.

"Eames…" He choked in horror, reaching out for his lover. Eames mistook the gesture as pity, and backed away quickly, smoothing out his expression.

"Goodnight, Arthur."

With that, he was gone. Arthur knew it was pointless to follow him. When Eames didn't want to be found, it was damn near impossible to find him. He shut the door and walked back into the kitchen. He spotted the table, still holding two plates of the food Eames had prepared for them, mocking him. Anger blinded him and he overturned the table, sending the plates crashing to the floor, and smashing the oak table beyond repair.

Arthur sunk to the floor. Heartbroken, he buried his head in his hands and did something he hadn't done since he'd left home. He cried. A lone tear down his face as he realised the one thing he thought was impossible had happened.

Eames had left him.

* * *

Eames made plans to leave for Mombasa early the next morning, finding LA suddenly too crowded. He couldn't bear being so close to Arthur, and yet so far. He called a taxi to take him to the airport. After he arrived, he called Yusuf to warn him of his impending arrival.

"Yusuf, my good man. It's been … well, two days, but I'll be in the neighbourhood and I thought I'd stop by and see how things were."

Yusuf sighed.

"What happened with Arthur?"

Eames stiffened, then relaxed. "What makes you say that? Everything's fine, I saw him only last night." His shoulders sagged as he read the disbelief in Yusuf's silence. "Fine, we broke up. It's not important."

"It's not important, but you're going to fly nearly twenty hours and across two continents to get away from him?"

Eames frowned. "Well, when you put it like that…" He muttered. "Look, I need somewhere to stay for a few days, so I can get my head sorted."

Yusuf sighed again. "You know where the spare room is." He paused. "Eames? I know everyone thinks you and Arthur are perfect for each other. Hell, even I do. But if it didn't work out, not one of us will take sides. No one will blame you because it hasn't worked."

Eames smiled sadly. "I blame myself." He said softly, then hung up. He walked out of the airport, not really feeling up to seeing Yusuf anymore. He realised that he'd changed. In the three months it had been since the inception, he'd never felt his usual urge to uproot, unable to stay in one place for long. He hadn't gambled, and the only drinking he'd done was with meals. He wasn't who he used to be.

"But I'm happy. I'm happy with Arthur. Was." He corrected. "Was happy with Arthur." 

Happiness wasn't enough. It hadn't been enough to hold them together, to convince Arthur that they were worth it. Viciously, Eames kicked a can in the road, signalling a passing taxi. He would sleep on it, before deciding where he would go. He hadn't slept a wink since leaving Arthur. Staring out of the window, Eames was distracted when his phone rang. He froze, suspecting it was Arthur. For one second, he debated not answering, but the caller ID told him it was Ariadne.

"Ariadne! What can I do you for?" He ensured no traces of his melancholy was present in his voice. Ariadne was quick enough that she would notice it. As it turned out, it was a futile effort, because she'd already called Arthur.

"Eames, where are you? What's happened? I called Arthur, and he was a mess. He said he was leaving LA and he was going to spend a couple of days with a friend. He said you'd left him."

Eames closed his eyes in frustration. He refused to let Arthur play the role of the victim. "No, I _did not_ leave him. We ended by mutual consent. It was his idea, and I agreed it was for the best." He said defensively.

Ariadne sighed. "You _stupid_ man, Eames. Arthur doesn't want that. He thought you wanted it, so he was trying to do right by you! Do you have any brains in your head at all? I thought you knew him!"

Eames froze. "He doesn't?"

"Oh, Eames." Ariadne sighed. "Ever since you and Arthur got together, you've lost track of everything that brought you together. You need to sit down and decide where things stand with you both. But that involves you going back to his flat right now."

Eames snorted. "I'm sorry Ariadne, but you'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it. Arthur seemed pretty set on breaking up last night."

"And if I told you that he'd spent the night surrounded by a broken table and two plates of coq au vin?" She said quietly. Eames froze, horrified.

"I'd refuse to believe you, but there's no way you could have known that's what I made… fuck, I'm coming back now. Turn around please." He ordered the taxi driver, who muttered something furiously as Eames gave him Arthur's address. "And step on it."

"That's the Eames we all know and love." He could practically hear Ariadne's smile. "Good luck."

He hung up and was at Arthur's front door in minutes. Bypassing the usual protocol of knocking, he opened the door, knowing Arthur wouldn't answer if he was upset. He found the point man sitting in the kitchen, his dining table in pieces on the floor, strewed pieces of crockery and food over the floor. The room was a mess. Eames couldn't believe his eyes.

"Arthur?" He stepped forward hesitantly. Arthur's head snapped up.

"Eames?" The hopeful nuance in Arthur's tone broke Eames' heart. Eames stepped forward and pulled Arthur into a hug. They didn't apologise. The way they clung to each other was enough for them to know it wasn't necessary.

After a few minutes, Arthur pulled away. He scrunched up his nose in distaste at his wrinkled clothing and his scent. He excused himself for a shower. Eames began clearing up the mess on the floor, clearing away the pieces of broken crockery and the remains of the casserole, waiting for Arthur to finish. When the point man reappeared, fully dressed, Eames cleared his throat.

"I cleared up. I'm afraid your dining table is a little out of my expertise though."

Arthur managed a small smile. "I didn't like it all that much anyway."

Eames nodded. "You know we need to talk. Honestly, this time." He glared at the point man. "Seriously, Arthur. I want to know how _you_ feel, not what you think I want to hear."

Arthur nodded. "Okay."

Eames sighed. "Things clearly aren't working out the way we wanted them to. It's making us both miserable more often than not. There is nothing I want more than to be with you, Arthur. I can guarantee that there will never be anyone else for me. But that's not enough to make it work."

Arthur inclined his head in agreement. "I agree. On all counts." He offered a tentative smile to the forger, who returned it. "I don't want this to end, Eames."

Eames smiled, tentatively. "Good." He said quietly. "Then we agree to give it one last try, yeah?"

Arthur nodded. Eames stood up.

"Then I'll give us some space to wrap our heads around it. I didn't get much sleep last night anyway. I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked. Arthur nodded, smiling. Eames bent down and kissed him softly.

"Till then, darling."

* * *

The next day found Eames at Arthur's flat, holding a rucksack and wearing a pair of faded jeans and navy shirt. Arthur raised a questioning brow at the bag, trying to look disinterested. Eames grinned at the point man's blatant curiosity.

"I thought maybe we could drive to this park I found a few weeks back and have lunch there?" He suggested, pleasantly.

Arthur smiled. "Like a picnic?"

"It is absolutely _not_ a picnic." Eames countered, irritably. "We're not ten. We just happen to be eating sandwiches in a park. No picnic involved. Besides, if this was a picnic, I'd have a basket."

Arthur grinned, not believing him for a minute. "You're rather well versed in picnic etiquette." He teased, picking up his car keys and shrugged on his jacket. "After you, but I'm driving."

After about forty minutes of driving, it became clear they were lost. Eames insisted they weren't, and that it had taken him a while to get there the first time he'd been. He began recounting his directions and Arthur noticed that he seemed unsure. He gritted his teeth and pulled over, cutting of Eames' protests.

"Eames, can you just check the map?"

Eames frowned. "We don't need the map. I know where I'm going."

Arthur glared at him. Eames sighed and reached for the glove compartment. He pulled out the map and studied it. After a few minutes, he scratched his head and smiled at Arthur, sheepishly.

"Oh. We missed the turn off about a mile back."

Arthur silently counted to ten and then spun the car around.

"It looks like it's going to rain." Eames stated, peering out of the window at the lingering dark clouds. "Perhaps we should come back another day."

"Not a fucking chance." Arthur snapped. "It took us this long to find it, we're damn well going."

Eames grinned at him, and went back to the studying the weather. Arthur found the turn in the road and took it. A few minutes later, they pulled up outside the gate, which was quite clearly locked. Arthur got out to take a closer look and spotted a sign saying the park was closed on Wednesday. He turned to glare at Eames who held up his hands, absolving himself of all blame.

"Darling, I knew nothing about it. I never actually went in."

Arthur sighed, irritably, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. We'll eat here and then I'll drive back."

They sat on the grass outside the park. Eames handed over a plastic wrapped sandwich and Arthur took it.

"Thanks." He said, unwrapping it and taking a large bite. He was so hungry; he devoured his sandwich in record time. Eames was equally as ravenous and passed Arthur another sandwich. Arthur had just unwrapped it, when he felt a drop of water on his head. He looked up, and lightning flashed across the sky, followed by a rumble of thunder. It began raining heavily, and Arthur and Eames found themselves drenched. They ran back to the car, Eames bundling his bag into the back. He glanced over at Arthur to see how the point man was taking the disaster that was their sixth date.

Arthur stared at him, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Eames frowned and Arthur couldn't restrain himself any longer. He burst out laughing. Eames blinked, and a grin spread onto his face before he started laughing too. Arthur moved forward quickly, taking hold of Eames' shoulders and pressing his lips to the forger's. They were both dripping wet, the rain running down their faces, soaking them thoroughly, but neither of them cared. Eames pulled Arthur to him, moving his lips eagerly against his lover's. Another rumble of thunder caused them to jump apart in fright, breaking the kiss. When they realised what had happened, the lovers started laughing again. Arthur nuzzled his nose against Eames' and kissed him softly, smiling against his lips.

Eames' hand found Arthur's and he took it firmly. Everything had gone wrong since Eames and Arthur had eventually got together. They'd come close to losing each other on more than one occasion, but in that moment, in the rain, their hands entwined, both of them knew that everything would work out just fine.


	3. Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames takes a job where he has a personal score to settle with the mark, while trying to keep Arthur well away from it. Arthur, meanwhile, is hurt that Eames will be gone for their anniversary, which the forger seems to have forgotten.

Arthur wasn't sure exactly when Eames moved in. Sure, the forger had been round a lot, and had left a lot of his stuff at Arthur's, but he still couldn't pinpoint the moment when Eames had stopped going home. Five months after they'd had their last date, after a particularly gruelling job in Tibet, they'd arrived home, exhausted. Eames had hopped in the shower, and Arthur paused, wondering why Eames didn't use his own shower. He frowned as he realised he couldn't actually remember the last time Eames had been back to his own flat.

A thought struck him, and he hurried to his closet. Sure enough, half of it was filled with Eames' hideous shirts. He glanced around his bedroom and saw more proof that the forger was now living here; a worn copy of a Kurt Vonnegut novel on the table next to 'his' side of the bed; a dressing gown hung on the back of the door… Arthur felt fear rising in his chest as he moved to the next room. There was the armchair that Eames had taken for his own; his jacket in the hall; a pack of his cigarettes left on the coffee table… everything suggested that Eames had moved on. How had he never noticed it before? Arthur sank into his own chair, weakly, head in his hands. He could hear Eames singing in the shower and it sounded suspiciously like George Michael. Arthur stood up swiftly, and marched over to the forger's chair. This was his fucking flat, he paid the fucking rent and he was going to sit where he damn well pleased.

Except Eames' chair really wasn't all that comfortable, Arthur thought, fidgeting. It smelt of stale smoke, and tea and something distinctly Eames. Unable to bear it, he moved back to his own chair, scowling.

"It doesn't change a fucking thing. This is still _my_ apartment." He mumbled, furiously.

"What was that, darling?" Eames called, opening the bathroom door. Arthur was distracted for a moment by the forger, unabashedly standing in just a towel.

"Get dressed, you're dripping on the carpet." Arthur snapped. Eames just winked at him and sauntered into the bedroom to dress.

"The shower's all yours, Arthur." He called. Arthur's scowl deepened.

"That's the fucking point." He muttered, grabbing a towel and disappearing into the bathroom, shutting the door loudly behind him. He was going to have to broach the subject with Eames, and tactfully, because he didn't want an argument. The hot water did nothing to soothe his nerves or his anger. As he stepped out of the shower, he realised he was shaking.

"Why the fuck would he even _want_ to live with me?" He voiced aloud. "We didn't even talk about this. I'm not ready for such a big step."

"Did you say something, darling?" Eames called through the door, causing Arthur to jump. "There's the post to sort through, shall I do it?"

"The what?" Arthur frowned. Bloody English words. He spotted a second toothbrush by the sink and closed his eyes, frustrated beyond words. He was an observant man. How the fuck had he not noticed that his boyfriend was now living with him?

"The mail, darling." Eames replied, patiently. "Letters, bills, and suchlike. Do you want me to sort through it?"

"No, I'll do it." Arthur gritted his teeth. "I'm coming now."

He wrapped the towel firmly around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom. Ignoring Eames completely, he went to get dressed. A few minutes later, he emerged, heading for the mail. He quickly scanned through them. Bill. Bill. Letter from his mother. Bill. What the fuck?

"Eames?" Arthur asked calmly. "What the fuck is this?" He held out a letter addressed to them both.

"I don't know, darling." Eames was nonplussed by Arthur's reaction to a letter that hadn't even been opened. "Open it and find out?"

Arthur closed his eyes and counted to five. "No, Eames, I want to know why the fuck people assume you'll be here. Why the fuck you've somehow ended up moving into _my_ apartment without so much as a discussion?"

Eames blinked. He seemed speechless.

Arthur threw the letter at his head. It smacked off the forger's head, who was still staring at Arthur.

"I… suppose I do live here, don't I?" Eames seemed lost. Arthur was surprised.

"You mean, you didn't realise either?" He asked.

Eames nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again, trying to understand which was the right response. "Of course I knew, darling. As you so rightly pointed out, I live here. I'm not so old that I've forgotten where I live. I just thought _you_ already knew. I didn't think it would pose a problem."

"You didn't even fucking discuss it with me, you just moved into my flat." Arthur was furious at Eames' audacity. "Seriously Eames, what the fuck? That isn't something you can just _do_. It's a big fucking step."

"Arthur, calm down." Eames argued. "I didn't just wake up one day and decided to move in. The only reason you're angry is because you didn't realise. I've always cleared it with you before I've left something here. My toothbrush makes sense, I fucking _sleep with you_ , so clothes are a necessity, and a few other things. I might live here in the sense that I sleep here, but none of my actual belongings are here. I have photographs, books and all sorts of personal possessions back at my own apartment, because I wouldn't just _move in_ without telling you."

Arthur sighed, and deflated. "I'm sorry Eames."

"Arthur, am I an inconvenience?" Eames asked quietly. He suddenly felt like a fool. Maybe Arthur didn't want him around so much, and this was his way of showing it.

Arthur looked up. "Huh?" He frowned.

"Does it bother you? That I'm here so much." Eames clarified. "I can go back to my apartment if you need your space. I do understand, darling."

Arthur reached over and took his lover's hand. "That's not necessary. I'm used to having you around." He said awkwardly, a tentative smile appearing on his face. Eames returned the smile; understanding that this was Arthur's way of asking him not to leave.

Nothing else was ever said on the matter, but the next day, they were watching TV when Arthur noticed that there were a few photographs of Eames' family dotted around, and his flat suddenly held more belongings that definitely weren't his. He smiled at Eames, who was currently engrossed in a cheesy martial arts movie, and decided not to say anything as he realised his apartment had acquired a permanent fixture, and so had he.

* * *

Shortly after Eames moved in, things took a downhill turn for the couple. Their relationship was going strong, but less than two weeks later, Eames was called on a job that already had a point man. He discussed it with Arthur one evening as they sat down to dinner.

"It sounds like an exciting job, darling, and I've had the privilege of meeting Derek Harrison." His eyes darkened, and a glint appeared that Arthur had never seen before. "Well, my sister knew him better than I, but I've never forgotten…" He trailed off. "Anyway, I want to take this job. It shouldn't take more than two months."

Arthur looked up at his lover, surprised. "Eames, you don't have to ask my permission to take a job." He shrugged indifferently. "If you want to go, then go. Where is it?"

"London. Not too far from where I was brought up actually. I'd like to show you the area sometime darling."

Arthur smiled. "I'd like that. Eames, about this job… if it's personal, maybe I could come along and lend a hand?"

Eames' smile faded and his eyes hardened. Arthur was taken aback at how different Eames looked without any trace of humour on his face. Eames shook his head, setting down his wine glass. "No, darling. This is my fight and I'll handle it. Thank you, regardless." He managed a small smile.

Arthur nodded, understanding. If he'd had any disputes to settle, he probably wouldn't involve Eames, so it was perfectly reasonable that Eames want to handle this alone. "When do you leave?" He asked, scooping up his last forkful of rice. God, Eames could cook.

"Tomorrow." Eames said, pushing his plate away. Arthur froze, swallowing.

"Tomorrow?" He asked quietly. "For two months?"

Eames nodded, a slight frown on his face and Arthur smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sure I'll cope without you." He said. "I think I'm too used to you cooking for me. It'll give me a chance to learn some independence again. Are you finished?" He gestured to Eames' plate. The forger nodded, confused as Arthur stood up and swept the plates up. His eyes followed Arthur as he scraped the leftovers into the bin and then ran the dishes under the tap.

"Is there something wrong, Arthur?" He stood, approaching the point man, picking up a dishtowel.

"No, not at all." Arthur lied, handing Eames the dish.

In actuality, he was a little disappointed. Eames would miss their first anniversary. But Arthur hadn't expected him to remember it anyway. As fond as he was of the forger, he knew that Eames wasn't the sort to remember dates. He barely remembered his own birthday. Arthur himself wasn't the type to get so sentimental, although Eames brought out a side of him that he'd never experienced before. Knowing that it was foolish to be upset over something so trivial, he quashed his disappointment, wrapping his arms around his lover. Eames put the dish down and returned the gesture; enveloping Arthur in a warm hug.

That night was the first time they actually made love. They'd fucked regularly, but this time it was different. Their relationship had begun to undergo subtle changes recently, and they were a lot more aware of each other. While both had thought they'd known everything there was to know about the other, they'd become experts at reading what the other wanted. Cobb and Ariadne had borne witness to Arthur handed Eames the salt without the forger even speaking, or Eames holding out the newspaper when Arthur walked into the room. Neither of them had noticed the change in their relationship, but they both recognised their own deepening feelings for the other.

That night was also the first night that one of them dared to speak their feelings aloud. They sated themselves in front of the fire, Arthur holding onto Eames tightly as Eames murmured his love for Arthur into his ear. It was the first time either of them had said it, afraid of rejection on non-reciprocation. Arthur didn't say it back, but the way he whispered Eames name over and over told the forger everything he needed to know and he clutched Arthur to him, kissing him gently.

The next morning, Eames woke early, his alarm buzzing quietly. Both he and Arthur were light sleepers so it didn't take much to wake them. He stretched, noticing he was in bed alone. A sound from the kitchen told him Arthur was making coffee, so he decided to have a shower.

Washing his hair under the warm spray, Eames thought back to the previous night. It had been fantastic; marred only be Arthur's slight melancholy after he'd mentioned the job. He frowned, pausing in his ministrations. He knew he was missing something, he just didn't know what. Shaking his head, he ducked his head back under the spray. If Arthur had an issue, surely he would talk to him about it? Either way, unless Arthur broached the subject of whatever was bothering him, it wasn't worth worrying over.

He stepped out of the shower, dressing in a simple shirt and pants that actually matched. He smiled, remembering the change he'd made so Arthur wouldn't be ashamed to be seen in public with him. He combed his hair and went looking for his partner. He found Arthur exactly where he expected him to be, in the kitchen, clutching a cup of coffee like it was his lifeline.

"Morning, love." Eames greeted, pressing a brief kiss to Arthur's lips. "Oh, I see you made breakfast." He leaned past him and peered out of the window.

"What are you looking for?" Arthur frowned. Eames turned to look at him innocently, but Arthur wasn't fooled for a moment.

"Hmm? Oh, the fire brigade, darling. I assumed we'd had some sort of fire if you've been cooking."

Arthur bristled visibly and Eames chuckled at the scowl disfiguring his partner's face. One thing he loved about Arthur was how easy he was to rile.

"I was joking, pet. It looks delicious." He said, honestly, looking at the freshly made pancakes. He reached for the syrup. "I have about twenty five minutes before I have to leave for the airport."

Arthur looked up and nodded. Eames glanced down to see him working on some architecture plans. He sighed, exasperated. "Darling, couldn't you wait until I've gone before you start working? Two months is a long time."

Arthur looked up and shrugged. "Yeah, okay." He folded the plans away neatly. "Want me to drive you to the airport?"

Eames shook his head. "I'll take a taxi. I called one last night."

There was silence, and Eames set to work devouring his breakfast as Arthur watched him silently. There was an elephant in the room they'd yet to address, and Eames knew they would have to discuss it before he left, but he'd be damned if he was going to start it before he finished his breakfast. When he'd finished eating, he set his knife and fork down and folded his arms.

"I meant it, you know." He said, looking at Arthur defiantly.

Arthur kept his face deliberately blank. "Meant what?"

Eames frowned, an unusual look on his face. He was well-known for his sense of humour and his inability to be serious no matter the situation, but right now, he wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"Don't play coy, Arthur. You know exactly what I'm talking about." When Arthur didn't react, he sighed. "Fine. We don't have to talk about it." He shrugged, standing to wash his plate at the sink. Arthur still didn't speak, so he stacked the dishes and then headed to pack his last-minute items, which included his toothbrush, shaking his head at the point man's stubbornness. Arthur always refused to talk about anything to do with their relationship, and it left them on totally different pages.

Within a few minutes he was ready to leave. He glanced out of the window and saw the taxi waiting patiently outside their apartment.

"My taxi is here." He said quietly, looking over at his lover, wondering if Arthur would see him off. The point man glanced at Eames and stood, picking up one of the bags. He carried it down, and Eames followed, feeling thoroughly miserable at the thought of leaving his lover for so long, when they hadn't been away from each other for more than a week since they'd started their relationship. A small part of him was telling him that the space could be good for them, but he knew how much he would miss the point man, so it was little consolation.

Eames hoisted his bag into the car, and turned to say goodbye, but once he'd faced his lover, he found that he didn't know what to say.

"Call me when you land." Arthur ordered. Eames nodded and reached for his lover. Arthur melted into the embrace and placed a chaste kiss on the forger's lips.

"Two months, and that's all I get?" Eames joked. Arthur grinned and pulled the forger back in for a long, slow kiss. The taxi driver cleared his throat impatiently, and they broke apart laughing.

"Be with you in a minute." Eames waved dismissively, not looking away from Arthur. The driver grunted and got in the car. "I'll miss you, darling." He said quietly, to Arthur.

Arthur smiled at him, his eyes soft. "I'm sure you'll cope. Just … try not to do anything too reckless."

He was terrified that Eames would do something seriously stupid while he was away, particularly if the job was personal. Arthur knew he could find the information in minutes if he wanted to; he was curious to find out what had transpired between Eames' sister and Derek Harrison, but it wasn't his place. If Eames wanted him to know, he'd have told him. But Arthur wasn't stupid. He trusted Eames with every fibre of his being. Eames was the only person he'd trust with his life. But he knew how the forger was with his own life. He was reckless and would take risks that came with too high a price. So while he let Eames disappear off on jobs for months at a time, he kept tabs on him. At the slightest sign of trouble, no matter where in the world Eames was, he would be there as soon as it was physically possible.

"Don't make promises you can't keep." He sighed as Eames opened his mouth to assure Arthur that he wouldn't do anything too reckless. Eames frowned and took Arthur's face in his hands, brushing the smooth skin with his own, rough fingers. Arthur marvelled at the amount of lies, forgers, deceit that had spun from those very hands; hands that now represented honest and the depth of their relationship.

"It's not just me I have to think about now, darling. No unnecessary risks. I promise." He brushed his lips lightly against Arthur's. "I love you." He breathed, then pulled away, sliding smoothly into the taxi.

"LAX, please mate."

He winked at Arthur as the taxi pulled away. Arthur stood, gaping at the vehicle as it rounded the corner. Eames had said he loved him. Arthur couldn't move, just stood staring at the road where the taxi had disappeared.

"Everything okay, son?" An elderly lady stopped, looking up at Arthur, concerned. Arthur tore his eyes away from the street to look at her.

"I…yes. I'm fine. Thank you." He said, still reeling from the revelation. As he slowly wrapped his head around Eames' declaration, a wide grin slid onto his face, and he could do nothing to repress it. He grinned cheerfully at the old woman.

"Everything's great. Hope you have a nice day." He slipped back into his flat. Shutting the door behind him, he resisted the urge to punch the air. Eames loved him. Arthur had heard him say it the night before, during their love making, but under those circumstances it was easy to dismiss as the heat of the moment. Now, neither of them could deny it.

"He loves me." Arthur murmured to himself. His good mood was marred as he realised that he wouldn't see Eames for two months. Their anniversary was in a week. He would relax until then, and afterwards he would start looking for a short job until Eames came home. He sighed, dropping into a chair and pulling some blueprints towards him. It would be a long two months.

* * *

"Good to see you again, Carolyn." Eames nodded as he strolled into the warehouse, ironically located only a few minutes walk from the house he'd grown up in. "So where are we at?"

The brunette turned around, eyeing Eames warily. "Oh, it's you Eames. The job's off."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me. You couldn't have called and let me know, instead of letting me fly eleven hours to get here?" He demanded. "What happened?"

Carolyn sighed, her blue eyes weary. "We have no architect. Frederique pulled out and it's too short notice to get anyone new."

Eames spoke without hesitation. "I know someone."

He felt sick for even thinking it, but he knew he couldn't involve Arthur in this job. There was too much history between Eames' family and the mark, and he didn't want Arthur involved. But he had someone else in mind, who was equally as capable as his lover.

"How much experience do they have?" Carolyn narrowed her eyes.

"One job." Eames admitted. At her scornful gaze, he leaned forward, eyes gleaming as he delivered the selling line. "An inception."

Her eyes widened. "Who is he?"

Eames grinned, sitting down and pulling out his phone, dialling a number. "She. Her name is Ariadne."

* * *

Ariadne took the job. No one had expected her to refuse it, she'd only gotten a brief taste of dreamsharing and was excited to gain a little more experience. But Eames made it clear that she was to design the levels, then he would put her on a plane back to LA personally.

"It's nothing personal, Ariadne. It's just that I have history with this mark, and it could turn sour. I promised Arthur that there would be no unnecessary risks on this job, and you sticking around is too risky. Cobb would kill me, and Arthur would make me sleep on the sofa for a year. So as soon as the levels are complete, back you go. Agreed?"

Ariadne rolled her eyes. "Eames, I agreed to all of this on the phone. I wouldn't be here now if I didn't accept your terms. I design the levels, I go back to my family." She smiled, sheepishly. "It feels good saying that."

"How are the kids?" Eames asked curiously, smiling warmly. "I haven't seen James and Philippa in so long, when this is over, Arthur and I need to pop round."

" _Who_ is this mysterious Arthur you keep talking about, Eames?" Carolyn asked, strolling over to them. She handed Eames and Ariadne a coffee, and lingered. "I only know one Arthur in his business, and if I recall, you and he fought like cat and dog." She smiled. "I knew you always had a soft spot for him, but he was like a machine. I never once saw him smile. Don't tell me you found someone with the same name."

Eames raised an eyebrow. "No, I actually managed to ensnare the real Arthur. After seven years of determination, charm, wit…"

"And modesty." Ariadne rolled her eyes. "But then, the thought of being trapped in limbo tends to make people seize what was right in front of their eyes the whole time."

Carolyn stifled a chuckle. "You've gone soft in your old age, Eames. Ten years ago, you would never have dreamed about settling down. How long have you managed to stay with Arthur now?"

Eames pursed his lips, calculating how many months it had been since the Inception job. "Now let me see, 16th July … so a year tomorrow … oh, _shit_!"

Ariadne brought a hand to her mouth. "You forgot your anniversary, didn't you?"

Eames frowned. "But Arthur didn't mention it, and he's meticulous with dates. Surely he would have said something?" He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. "Although, that would explain why he was so odd when I told him when the job was. I need a few days off." He announced the last sentence for the warehouse. Jacques chuckled; knowing the relationship between the two well. As the two best point men in the business, Jacques and Arthur interacted on a regular basis, for security. He was the man who had notified Arthur of Armstrong's attempt on their lives.

Ariadne smiled affectionately at the man she'd come to consider as a valuable friend and Carolyn rolled her eyes.

"If you must." The brunette sighed. "I want you back here no later than Sunday, Eames, or I'll find another forger."

"Upon my word as a thief." Eames grinned. He turned to Jacques. "Mate, can I…"

"Already taken care of." Jacques waved dismissively. "Gatwick. Two hours. Say hi to Arthur for me."

Eames thanked him warmly, and slipped out of the warehouse. He took a longer route back to his car so he could stop by his parent's house. He didn't intend to stay; he just wanted a quick look at the outside, to see what had changed.

He stopped at the gate, running his hands over the familiar wood as he remembered swinging on that very gate when he was younger. A glance at the drive told him that no one was in. He resisted taking a closer look; instead, he took one last lingering glance before moving quickly away, heading for his car. As happy as his childhood was, his relationship with his parents was strained to say the least, and he was in no mood to make idle chit chat with them when he had a plane to catch. Eames had no intention of seeing his parents again for the rest of his life. Arthur was his family now, and he had no need for anyone else.

He made his way to the airport just in time to catch the flight Jacques had arranged for him. Daunting as the prospect of an eleven hour flight was, he wanted to be home to catch Arthur for their anniversary. He already felt like shit for completely forgetting their anniversary when Arthur had clearly remembered it. It was abundantly clear to Eames that Arthur's odd reaction to the job was due to the knowledge that Eames had forgotten their anniversary.

The flight was long, and Eames was restless. He hated flying, even though more often than not it was necessary for travelling to and from jobs. He preferred driving, although he recognised that there was occasions where flying was unavoidable. This was one of those times. In his view, the discomfort he felt when flying was more than worth surprising his lover.

When he eventually landed at LAX, he hailed a taxi, directing it to Arthur's apartment. _Their_ apartment. Eames smiled slightly at the thought, remembering fondly the day Arthur had realised that he'd moved in. It was the only issue they'd had, aside from their disastrous dates. Eames was still relieved that Arthur had decided to drop the dating idea. They knew each other well enough that the whole point of dating was impractical to start with. As for taking it slow, they'd spent six years dancing around each other, with Eames doing a hell of a lot of chasing. If they'd taken it much slower, Eames would still be living on his own.

Arriving at the apartment, Eames noted with satisfaction that Arthur's car was still outside, meaning he was at home. He paid the driver, tipping him for the speedy journey and headed into the building.

Eames unlocked the door, and slipped inside surreptitiously. Silently, he headed to the kitchen, secretly hoping to surprise Arthur, but knowing that the point man would already be aware of his presence. He rounded the corner, appearing in the kitchen doorway and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. His instincts screamed at him to disarm and interrogate, but he recognised the gun as Arthur's, so he remained still, knowing if he twitched, Arthur would fire. The gun was withdrawn and Eames registered the click of the safety. This whole routine happened in less than two seconds, both of their reactions swift and practiced. Eames blinked and found himself face to face with his lover.

"Eames," Arthur breathed in amazement, reaching out of the forger. His hand found Eames' and he squeezed it gently.

"Hi." Eames murmured, staring into Arthur's dark, mesmerising eyes. The point man was brought out of his reverie, all traces of his former delight gone as he registered exactly what Eames had done. He scowled, furiously.

"I could have fucking killed you. _Do not_ sneak up on me, Eames." He snapped. "What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

Eames grinned, taking Arthur's mood swing with a pinch of salt. "You severely underestimate my abilities, darling. I'm here for our anniversary, remember?"

Arthur stared, his chest fluttering with happiness, yet his mind was filled with confusion.

"But … you forgot." He said dumbly.

Eames smiled gently, cupping Arthur's face in his hand. "And yet, here I am."

Something in Arthur snapped and he crashed his lips to the forgers, fingers winding into Eames' hair tightly. Eames bit back a gasp and moved his lips against Arthurs. His hands found their way to Arthur's waist and he pulled the point man to him, his fingertips biting into Arthur's hips so tightly, Arthur knew they would leave marks, leaving Eames' claim on him for days. He tugged on Eames' hair, deepening the kiss. Eames bucked his hips against Arthur's, allowing his lover to feel his hardness. Arthur groaned into the kiss, feeling his own erection rather painfully. He pulled away, flushed, and lips swollen.

"Bed. Now." Was all he managed, before Eames pulled him roughly into the bedroom.

A few hours later, Arthur rolled over, his head resting on Eames' chest as he absent-mindedly stroked the tattoo on his lover's torso.

"Eames?" He whispered, in case the forger was asleep.

"Hmm?" The forger replied, sleepily.

"When exactly _did_ you remember that tomorrow was our anniversary." Arthur concealed his smile by pressing a kiss to the skin directly over the forger's heart.

"I knew the whole time, darling." Eames lied. Arthur sat up, raising a dark brow in disbelief. "Okay, okay, fine." Eames amended hastily. "I remembered this morning."

Arthur lay back down.

"Well, I'm very glad you're here." He said quietly. Arthur was spared from Eames' reply as the grandfather clock in their hallway chimed, effectively silencing the pair of them as they listened to it peal twelve times, signalling the one-year mark in the relationship.

"Happy anniversary, darling." Eames murmured, stroking Arthur's hair lovingly.

"Happy anniversary, Eames." Arthur replied, scooting up the bed to press a kiss to Eames' lips.

In that moment, both of them knew they had never been happier. A shared glanced between them conveyed their mutual love and affection, and both Arthur and Eames recognised that nothing in their lives was as certain as the fact that they were no longer the people they had once been. Cold, indifferent, independent, or in Eames' case, masked, unconcerned and equally as independent. Those traits were long gone, to be replaced by warmth, love, and a feeling of desperation that they could no longer be classed as independent, because they depended on each other. With that thought surrounding them, Eames wrapped his broad arms around Arthur and they both drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Eames stayed for another day and night, before he finally had to head back to London. He awoke Early on Saturday morning, arms still wrapped around a sleeping Arthur. His love for his partner had strengthened considerably since he'd been back, but now he had to leave again. His mind briefly considered the possibility of asking Arthur to come with him. He wasn't ready to leave him again so soon, but at the same time, he didn't want him anywhere near this job. Eames had an old score to settle with Derek Harrison, and he didn't want Arthur to see that side of him. He sighed. Arthur would never agree to come to London unless he was part of the job. With that knowledge, he untangled himself from Arthur's limbs and slid out of bed to shower.

"Bed's cold without you in it." Arthur mumbled, burying his face in his pillow.

Eames turned back. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, it's still early."

Arthur rolled onto his back, rubbing his eyes. "I'm awake now. Were you going to sneak off without saying goodbye?"

Eames looked affronted. "Of course not. I just didn't see the point in waking you while I went for a shower."

"Even for the possibility that I could join you?" Arthur asked, innocently. Eames bit his lip as he felt Arthur's words shoot straight to his groin. "Too bad I'm too comfortable to move. Come back to bed." Arthur finished, grinning. Eames slid back into bed quickly, pressing a kiss to Arthur's forehead.

"Come with me." Eames asked, before he even considered the words.

"To shower? Sure, just give me ten minutes. I'm comfortable here."

"No." Eames shook his head. "To London."

Arthur looked up at him seriously. "You want me to come with you?"

"I'd like to show you where I grew up. But… darling, don't take this the wrong way…"

"You don't want me on the job." Arthur finished, smiling. "I already know Eames."

Eames stiffened, and looked away. He stared at the wall and struggled to keep his voice level. "I had hoped we respected each other's privacy not to look into each other's backgrounds. I assumed if there was something we wanted to know, we'd ask." Eames said quietly, the betrayal he felt evident in his tone.

Arthur frowned, completely at sea. Then he understood.

"What? No! God, Eames, I would never … I meant that I knew you didn't want me for this job, not that I knew why." Arthur defended himself, unable to believe Eames thought him capable of such a complete invasion of privacy. Obviously, he was capable, it was his job, but to do it to his own friends, his own _partner_ was a line even Arthur wouldn't cross.

"Oh." Eames blinked, turning his eyes back to Arthur. "I'm sorry, darling." He said apologetically.

Arthur nodded once, stiffly, then relaxed. "I'm sure I can amuse myself while you're working. I have some research to do myself."

"So you'll come?" Eames pressed.

Arthur nodded. "I'd like to see London properly. I've been once, not including the disaster of our theatre trip. Do you remember?"

Eames smiled. "I don't think I'll ever forget the day I met you darling. You shot me, remember?"

"I did _not_ shoot you." Arthur began heatedly. "I shot _at_ you. You broke into my apartment."

"You broke into mine!" Eames countered. "You broke in and left me a note, basically telling me you knew all about me and wanted to hire me. You left no contact details, aside from an address. You didn't even leave me your name! It could have been anyone!"

Arthur bit his lip. "I was a rookie in the business then." He admitted. "Besides, no one told me there was some sort of etiquette for hiring a thief."

Eames puffed out his chest indignantly. " _Forger_. Being a thief is just a sideline. I am a bona fide forger, and I'll thank you not to forget it."

Arthur laughed, and the sound made Eames heart soar. "There's nothing bona fide about our profession, Eames. We're all thieves. Except the mind is the scene of the crime."

Eames conceded his point. "You still shot me though."

"I did not shoot you. I wish you would stop telling people that." Arthur groaned. "I walked in to my apartment and saw an intruder, and acted accordingly."

Eames grinned, and didn't respond, caught up in memories. When Arthur had fired at him, Eames had been intrigued. He had made the unconscious decision to take any job that he was offered if Arthur was on the team. That was nine years ago. For the first three years, Eames had seen Arthur no more than four times, much to his disappointment. He wanted to learn more about the mysterious point man that had become so well known in their business. But by the start of the fourth job, Eames had started to think that maybe, just maybe, Arthur wasn't as complicated and interesting as he'd first thought. He was meticulous, polite, and coldly professional, and there was nothing that should have piqued Eames' interested.

So he'd decided that he'd spent long enough analysing Arthur and would no longer take jobs just because he was part of the team. However, at the end of the job, he'd been proven wrong. He was clearing out his desk when Arthur had approached him.

"Drink, Mr Eames?" He'd asked, coolly. Eames had been surprised, knowing Arthur didn't socialise with team members, even outside of jobs. He'd accepted, his curiosity once more piqued. With his acceptance, came the end of Arthur's cold demeanour. He'd smiled tentatively, changing his entire face and Eames wanted to see more. He vowed that he would make Arthur smile properly.

"I have wine in my apartment, or we can stay public if you'd prefer." Arthur asked, shrugged on his jacket. They ended up back at his apartment, drinking and discussing the job. Eames found Arthur a lot less stiff and haughty when he was outside jobs, and Arthur found Eames irritated him a lot less. They drank and drank, until Arthur found his eyes closing.

"Why did you invite me over tonight, Arthur?" Eames asked, his speech slightly slurred. "You never soc… soshul... mix with anyone from jobs. So why me?"

"You were in my house in London." Arthur slurred, his usually immaculate hair falling into his eyes. He ignored it, a sure sign that he'd had too much. "You broke into my house and then you were so fucking confusing." He pointed at Eames accusingly.

"I'm not confusing." Eames shook his head vigorously. "I'm simple, mate. Don't trust ol' Eames. I'm only good at the bad things."

Arthur shook his head. "No. Mal likes you. Mal doesn't like anyone. You must have some redeeming qualities."

"Red-mmm-ing qualities?" Eames repeated, slowly, stumbling over the words. "Maybe. I like your smile. It's darling."

"Darling." Arthur tested the word out on his tongue. "I like the way you say that. _Darling_."

A smile lit up his entire face, his dark eyes shining brightly at the term of endearment. It took Eames' breath away at how utterly _gorgeous_ Arthur looked when he was smiling. He was extraordinarily handsome most of the time, but it was always marred by his unattainability. Realising that he was probably one of only a few people who had ever seen Arthur smile so freely, Eames felt extremely privileged, and when Arthur met his eyes, turning his smile on Eames, the forger felt himself fall a little bit in love with him.

Eames opened his mouth to reply, but Arthur's smile faded and his eyes closed. He slumped sideways onto the chair, unconscious. Eames smiled, fondly, at the sleeping man, and stood to leave. He quickly scribbled a few words on Arthur's notebook and left, knowing that he was well and truly lost to the point man, and he would do everything in his power to make him his.

The next morning, Arthur woke with a splitting headache. He rubbed his eyes blearily, glancing around the room. His eyes fell on the notepad, and he picked it up, squinting at the words.

**Thanks for the drink, darling. Till next time.**

**– Eames**

* * *

Since then, Eames had taken to calling Arthur, darling. It wasn't a conscious decision; his mind had liked Arthur's reaction to the word initially, so he kept addressing Arthur using the endearment, much to Mal's delight and Cobb's amusement. Arthur, to his credit, never once objected to it, but gritted his teeth every time Eames spoke to him.

Eames remembered all of this, fondly. He turned to Arthur to see him smiling at him affectionately, knowing exactly where his thoughts had been.

"Why did you invite me for that drink, darling?"

Arthur's eyes shone when Eames called him darling. "I never get tired of hearing that." He admitted. "I told you at the time. You intrigued me. And … I found you attractive. Your accent particularly." Arthur blushed.

"You didn't like me." Eames stated.

Arthur shook his head, violently. "No. That's not true. You drove me insane, I'll freely admit to that. But I've always liked and respected you."

Eames smiled at him lovingly, and then groaned, forcing himself to sit up.

"Unfortunately, we really do have to get ready to leave. Carolyn will have my spleen for breakfast if I'm not back today. And I dread to think how much she's corrupted Ariadne…"

Fuck. He hadn't told Arthur about Ariadne.

"Ariadne?" Arthur frowned. "What's she…" Realisation dawned. "Ariadne's your architect? Why would you… I don't understand."

Eames closed his eyes, cursing himself inwardly, then turned to face Arthur. "There's no risk. She designs the layer, she leaves and _then_ we carry out the job. She's in no danger." Eames knew that wasn't Arthur's issue, but to explain would require a fuller explanation; one he didn't want to give. This was something Arthur never needed to know.

"That wasn't what I meant, Eames, and you know it." Arthur said quietly. "Why would you ask Ariadne to be part of a job that you won't let me anywhere near. Is it that you don't trust me to let you handle it alone?"

"No, of course not!" Eames sighed. "I can't explain it, Arthur."

"I'd recommend you start trying, Eames." Arthur began to get dressed. "Or I'm going to walk out of his door, and I promise you that you won't find me."

Eames was horrified. "You'd leave me for this? It really bothers you that much?"

Arthur nodded, stiffly. Eames thought for a moment, refusing to meet Arthur's eyes. After a minute, he sat down on the bed, gesturing for Arthur to sit next to him. He reached for his wallet, and pulled out a small picture of a young girl, very pretty, but no older than seventeen, handing it to Arthur.

Arthur glanced at it, dutifully. "Your sister, Charlotte. You've told me about her." He said, handing that picture back.

"I told you once that I have no contact with my family." Eames began. "It's true. Charlotte was raped two days after that picture was taken. By a man named Derek Harrison."

Arthur was horrified, but didn't speak. Eames needed to get all of this off his chest. He immediately felt awful, pushing Eames into telling him all of this.

"Nobody ever blamed me outright. But it was always there, in their faces. Charlotte was never the same again. But she never blamed me. We still speak on occasion." Eames said softly. "I tried to take him down. I did everything I could, but no matter what I did, he got the better of me. I failed every time. The man raped my sister, and I couldn't even punish her rapist." He laughed scornfully.

Arthur was bewildered . "Eames, how was that possibly your fault?"

Eames stared at Arthur, and the point man was shocked to see him looking so lost, so hollow. "Derek Harrison was my best friend."

Arthur's face became serious. "Eames, it wasn't your fault, not remotely."

Eames smiled, but it was robotic. "I know, Arthur. I've had time to accept that. But it still falls down to me to make sure he pays for what he did.

"Eames, what's the aim of the extraction?" Arthur asked sharply.

Eames' face smoothed, a blank poker face, and Arthur knew he'd hit the nail right on the head.

"Answer me, Eames." He said warningly. Eames muttered something about a corporation extension, which was along the lines of what Arthur had been expecting.

"Eames," Arthur began quietly, every nuance containing the combination of fury and fear that Eames could feel coming off him in waves. "I'm begging you, tell me you didn't lie to me when you promised me there would be no necessary risks. Tell me that you aren't planning an inception."

Eames frowned. "I'm not planning an inception. I will never lie to you Arthur. I intended to shoot him once we woke up. I want him to see the PASIV, and see me holding the gun, and know I got the better of him. I want Charlotte's face to be the last thing he remembers before I kill him."

Arthur understood, recognising that Eames didn't want him to see him at his most vulnerable, yet at his most ruthless. He made the decision to help Eames see his revenge through.

"Eames." He said softly. "I love you. We're in this together. No matter what it is."

It was the first time he'd said it aloud, and Eames stared at Arthur in wonder, as if he was seeing him for the first time.

"I wish I knew what I did to deserve you, darling." Eames breathed. Arthur laughed.

"I ask myself that every day, and wonder which Saint I slighted." He grinned. "Come on, Eames, we have a plane to catch."

They made it to London well before Carolyn's deadline, not that she would hire another forger. They were few and far between and there were only a handful who came anywhere close to Eames' skill. It would have taken too long to find another decent forger, and by then their window of opportunity would have passed.

The operation was a complete success. With Arthur's added help, they managed to pin down Derek Harrison at his home after only a month. To their mutual disgust, he was living only a few streets away from Eames' family. Eames felt a strange sense of revulsion as he laid eyes on the man who had torn his family apart. Anger overtook him and he swung a punch at Harrison's unconscious face. Arthur moved swiftly forward and deflected the blow.

"You know better than I do that a simple paper cut in reality can make someone realise they're dreaming." Arthur berated him quietly. "Save it for after the job."

Eames forced himself to nod and move away. His fingers itched to pull the trigger and end Harrison's life, but he knew Carolyn's life was at stake if she failed to extract the information, so he resisted. Carolyn hooked Harrison up to the PASIV and Arthur slid the IV into Eames' hand.

"I'll have my gun trained on him the whole time. If anything happens, I'll give you the kick out." Arthur reassured him. Eames nodded. Carolyn slid her own IV line in, and Arthur pressed the infusion trigger, putting Eames and Carolyn under. Jacques and Ariadne had already returned home, having fulfilled their roles. Arthur sat back in his seat, keeping his Glock trained on Harrison. He felt a strange sense of irony at the fact that he was once more working a job for Cobol Engineering.

After fifteen minutes, Arthur pressed the button to trigger the musical countdown. Instantly, Eames woke up. Arthur pursed up his lips in distaste. He hated when Eames shot himself in order to wake up early.

"Would another six minutes in the dream really have killed you?" He sighed, handing Eames his gun while he went to set the PASIV. Carolyn stirred and her eyes opened.

"Thank you, Eames." She smiled warmly. "We got what we needed."

She packed away the PASIV, then turned back to speak to Eames. Her smile faded as she saw the gun he was pointing at Harrison. "Eames, what are you doing?" She asked. "We don't need to kill him, he never saw my face and you kept the forge steady."

"The main reason I took this job was because the name Derek Harrison was one that I've known for a long time. I have a score to settle with him, and I intend to see it through." Eames said quietly. "Are you going to stop me?"

Carolyn shook her head frowning. "Hell no, Eames. It's none of my business what you do with him now." She pressed a comforting hand to his shoulder. "I'll be in touch about payment." She picked up the PASIV, spun on her heel and walked away. "Pleasure to see you both again." She called back, slipping out.

"Well, if it isn't my old friend, Eames." A voice spoke quietly. Arthur spun in time to witness Eames break the now-awake Harrison's nose with a single blow. He moved quickly over to Eames, drawing Harrison's attention.

"I'm afraid we haven't been introduced." He directed at Arthur. "Derek Harrison at your service." He grinned, although his words were muffled by the blood streaming out of his nose. Eames raised his hand to give him another blow, but Arthur stopped him.

Harrison misunderstood. "Much appreciated. Eames always did…" He was cut off as Arthur delivered a strong blow to his jaw, making him see stars. He blinked, disoriented for a moment, then grinned as his vision cleared.

"I always knew Eames was a fag, but as long as he didn't interfere with my … personal life, I kept out of his." Harrison smirked. "So, tell me, whoever you are. Do you bend over or does he?"

Before Arthur could react, Eames struck the mark with the butt of his gun, rendering him temporarily speechless. Harrison spat out a mouthful of blood, and glared up at Eames.

"Terribly rude of you when we're having such a delightful conversation, old boy. Charlotte had much better manners, if I recall."

Arthur moved quickly, disarming Eames and pinning his arms behind his back before he could even register the words. When realisation dawned, Eames let out a strangled cry and fought viciously against Arthur's iron grip. Arthur struggled to restrain him, exerting all his strength to keep Eames away from Harrison. Eames would regret it if he shot him in a moment of anger. He needed to make Harrison pay for what he did, Arthur recognised that.

"Don't fucking ever say her name." Eames roared. "Arthur, let fucking go of me _now_ , or so help me, I'll shoot you too."

His threat stung, though Arthur knew it was just his anger at Harrison, making him lash out, but he refused to slacken his grip until the forger stopped struggling in his arms. He maintained his grip for a few minutes, just to make sure that Eames was behaving rationally, before he let go, handing him back the gun. Harrison's smile faded as Eames immediately pointed the gun at his head.

"You haven't got the guts." He sneered. Eames lowered the gun slightly, and fired, watching the bullet pierce Harrison's abdomen. He let out a painful scream, and Arthur's hair stood on end at the sound. Harrison's chair tipped, and he rolled onto the floor.

"You missed?" Arthur said in disbelief. "You were in the army, we shoot for a living, and you missed an immobile target?"

Eames shook his head. "I didn't miss." He moved over to the mark and deliver a swift kick to the groin. "That's for Charlotte."

Eames kneeled by the body. "I'll tell you why I shot you in the stomach instead of through the head, _Derek_. A simple shot through the brain, and it would be over for you. But that would be quick; painless; merciful even. I don't intend for your death to be any of those things. I estimate it will take around twenty minutes for the acid from your stomach to seep through the bullet hole killing you from the inside out. That's if you don't bleed to death first, of course. And I promise you, I'll be here to watch it all."

He sat down, and spent the next twenty minutes watching Harrison die slowly and painfully. His agonised screams echoed around the house, but there were no neighbours close enough to hear them. There was nobody to save him, and Eames revelled in the knowledge that Harrison knew with each painful minute that passed, bringing him closer to death, that nobody was coming to help him. Arthur stood, watching a man he had only had limited interaction with die, but feeling nothing but revulsion for him. He deserved to pay for what he did, and Arthur knew that if it had been his sister, he would have reacted exactly the same, albeit he'd have been a little more … creative with his revenge. And while he would have supported Eames without question even if he hadn't understood the forger's reasons, his love for his own sister helped him understand and offer his unconditional support. He was half a step behind Eames, close enough to ensure the forger knew he was there, but far enough away that Eames had his own personal space.

After around twenty three minutes, Harrison took his last, pained breath. Eames raised the gun once more, and fired again, the bullet finding its mark between Harrison's eyes, ensuring that he was dead.

"Rot in hell, Derek." Eames hissed, viciously.

He stared at the body until his strength deserted him. The gun fell from his hands and dropped to his knees, drained. His head bowed and his eyes shone with unshed tears. Arthur approached his distraught lover slowly, kneeling in front of him.

"Eames? Eames, can you hear me?" At Eames' weak nod, he relaxed. "We need to get out of here. Can you walk? Good. Go and wait for me in the car. I'll finish up here." Eames walked unsteadily out of the room. Arthur's eyes narrowed in concern. He felt uneasy leaving Eames alone for too long, so he moved quickly, pouring gasoline over everything he could reach in every room of the house, turning on the gas oven in the kitchen for good measure. When everything was ready, he headed to the door. Eames was standing at the car, smoking a cigarette. Arthur grinned, and reached out, gesturing to Eames to hand it over. Eames held it out, surprise registering even through his haze. Arthur didn't smoke. The point man took it and brought it to his lips, taking a deep drag, before tossing it effortlessly through the open door. The fire ignited instantly, explosively, and Arthur closed the front door, walking away from the destruction.

He slid into the car and started the engine. Eames slid in beside him automatically, and they drove away, leaving the burning house behind them. Arthur found it difficult to concentrate on the roads; the forger's silence reverberating around the vehicle. Arthur was worried. He'd never seen Eames so out of it before. For once, he was struggling to think of something to say. He opened his mouth, intent on improvising, but Eames beat him to it.

"Sometimes, darling, you can be bloody scary."

Arthur was so relieved to hear him speak, he almost didn't register what Eames had said. He frowned. "I'm scary? What did I do?"

Eames smiled sadly. "Just how composed you were when you set the house on fire. I swear you looked almost sinister. If I didn't know you loved me too much to kill me and destroy my remains, I'd be worried."

Arthur laughed. " _I_ looked sinister? You shot a man in the stomach, and then watched him bleed to death as his stomach acid dissolved his insides."

"Yeah." Eames said, suddenly sounding so far away. "I suppose I did, didn't I?"

He fell silent and Arthur took a sharp left, heading towards their hotel.

"Why don't I feel better, Arthur?" He suddenly cried out, frustration colouring his tone. Arthur jumped in fright and the car jerked, almost crossing lanes. He straightened the vehicle up as Eames continued. "I've killed a man. I actually murdered someone in cold blood. Back in LA, I could be given the death penalty for this!"

"Good thing I'm not planning on turning you in." Arthur joked feebly. When Eames didn't respond, he sighed. "Eames, we've killed before. What makes this time any different?"

"Every time I've been forced to take someone's life, it's been because they were threatening my life or yours. That changed tonight. Neither of us were at personal risk, but I still took away someone's life."

Arthur cursed, barely able to continue driving while holding such a serious conversation.

"Would you rather he was still alive? Still able to rape someone else's sister?" He reasoned. When Eames shook his head, Arthur smiled at him patiently. When it became clear Eames wasn't going to continue the conversation, Arthur concentrated on getting them back to their hotel as quick as possible, hoping the quiet and privacy of their room would snap him out of his stupor.

They pulled up outside, and Arthur parked smoothly, exiting the car. They both walked to their room in silence, a distance between them that neither of them had ever experienced before.

The first thing that Eames did was shed his clothes and take a scalding hot shower; removing any and all traces of Harrison's blood from his body. Arthur poured himself a drink from the minibar and threw it back, feeling the alcohol numb the emptiness he always felt when taking someone's life. When Eames exited the shower, clean, but looking like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, Arthur tentatively suggested they go for a drink. Eames acquiesced and led them to a small bar around the corner. Arthur bought the first round; placing a whiskey in front of the forger, before sitting down with his own. He raised his glass to Eames and drained it. The forger followed suit and then the awkwardness descended once more. Arthur could hardly stand it, thinking of ways to escape the unbearable tension between them. Eames clearly felt the same, heading outside to make a phone call. When he returned, he seemed uneasy.

"Come with me." He ordered, and led Arthur back to the hotel, getting in the car and starting the engine. Arthur opened his mouth to object, Eames shot him down with a fierce look.

"You're over the limit. I'm driving." Eames' tone brooked no argument.

Arthur nodded. "Where are we going?" He asked. Eames didn't respond, so Arthur didn't ask again, staring out of the window. He noted with horror that they were driving dangerously close to where they'd just left Harrison. He opened his mouth to berate Eames, but the forger turned away then, heading down an entirely different street. He pulled up outside a small, detached house. Arthur was totally baffled, but assumed Eames had his reasons for driving them there.

Eames stepped out of the car and Arthur followed dutifully. They moved silently down a side street, stopping at a fence. Now Arthur was really confused.

"What…?" He began, but Eames held a finger to his lips, and peered over the top of the fence. Arthur followed suit, and froze as he saw a young woman sitting reading on a bench. She was beautiful, but her beauty was not what stunned Arthur. He recognised her as the woman in the photograph Eames kept in his wallet, and saw the family resemblance immediately. This was Charlotte. He stared at her, deeply engrossed in her book, the same expression on her face that Eames had whenever he was reading. He glanced up at Eames to see him smiling down at him. They moved away from the fence, and Arthur sat on a nearby wall.

"She looks happy." He said.

Eames nodded, thoughtfully. "Yeah, she does."

He sat next to Arthur, taking his hand. The contact eased the previously tense atmosphere, allowing them both to push the horrors of the day away. Eames immediately felt lighter, feeling much more himself, much more human than he had previously, Arthur's touch doing what the alcohol and the hot shower combined could not.

"Still want to explore London?" He asked. Arthur thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"Honestly? At the minute, I just want to go home. I don't intend to leave the apartment for at least a week when we get back." He sighed.

Eames grinned, cheekily. "I think that can be arranged, darling."

Arthur chuckled, and motioned for them to leave. Stepping into the street, Eames put his arm around Arthur.

"Darling, have I ever told you how utterly _sexy_ it is when you smoke?"

Arthur shrugged off the forger's arm and ruffled his hair affectionately, laughing, as they walked back towards their car.

Eames flattened his hair down, laughing along with Arthur good-humouredly. He walked down the street alongside the man he loved, and knew with every fibre of his being that there was nothing in the world that could make him happier than Arthur.


	4. Nowhere Left To Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames disappears without telling Arthur. When he returns Arthur makes him promise that if he ever needs to disappear again, to let him know, so he doesn't worry. When Eames disappears again, Arthur calls it off, not realising that the forger might not have had a choice.

For a whole year after Arthur and Eames exacted his revenge on the man who'd torn the forger's family apart, things went smoothly between them. They took a few jobs separately, but never longer than a few weeks. Arthur was beginning to find that he had reached a point in his life where things couldn't get any better. He had a dangerous, well-paying job that he loved, Dom, Ariadne and kids only lived a short drive away, and they met up regularly, and he had Eames. He had to admit, Eames was probably the clincher. Things had never been better between them.

This morning was an unusually solemn occasion for them both. Arthur slipped into a black suit, slicking his hair back as per his usual routine. Eames, contrary to _his_ usual routine, also combed his hair and dressed in a charcoal suit. Today was important, for everyone. Eames put the kettle on and made Arthur coffee, and himself a cup of tea. They sat in silence, drinking, waiting for Dom to arrive. It wasn't due to discord or a fight. It was because neither of them wanted to be the first to pierce the silence. Neither of them could tear their eyes away from the flowers on the table.

Arthur's doorbell rang, notifying them of Dom's arrival. Eames answered it, and noted Ariadne's presence with surprise. They hadn't expected her to come. Both refused the offer of a drink, so they tentatively returned to the door.

"We can all fit in my car…" Arthur suggested, using the space as an excuse. In actuality, it was because his Audi was black, whereas Eames had a ridiculously bright yellow car, completely unsuitable for the occasion. Dom nodded, and Arthur felt some relief seeing that the extractor was composed, a small tightness around his eyes the only sign of his grief. The atmosphere in the car was choking, and Arthur was desperate to find something, _anything_ to say that would break the silence. Eames clearly felt the same, because he switched on the radio, connecting it to his iPod. Arthur tensed, wondering Eames would be so inappropriate as to put on loud, offensive music when they were on their way to… his thoughts were cut off when a classical symphony started. Arthur tore his eyes away from the road to stare at the iPod, but still didn't dare speak.

It was Ariadne who broke the silence. "That's a beautiful song, Eames."

Eames cleared his throat. "Yeah."

They pulled up outside the cemetery gates, and Dom and Ariadne got out. Arthur hesitated, until Eames squeezed his hand supportively, drawing a small smile from them both. Stepping out of the car, Arthur beckoned his lover.

"Would you … come with me?" He asked hesitantly. Eames took his hand.

"Of course." He said. They walked the path that Eames and Arthur had only taken once, on the day of the funeral, although they arrived separately then, to match their relationship. They stopped in front of a marble gravestone and Eames lay down the flowers they'd chosen.

**MALLORIE COBB**

**BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER**

**ETERNALLY DREAMING**

Arthur felt tears prick his eyes at the inscription. He tugged on Eames' arm to get them both to back away and give Dom some space. They stepped back, out of hearing range so Dom could speak with some measure of privacy. When they'd retreated a reasonable distance, Arthur kept hold of Eames' arm, unable to let go in case he fell apart. Eames pulled Arthur to him, winding his free arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

When Cobb and Ariadne finally stepped away, Eames motioned for Arthur to go forward. Arthur hesitated, indecisively. Part of him wanted Eames there for support, part of him wanted to talk to Mal alone. He moved forward, gesturing for Eames to follow. He stopped in front of the stone and knelt, feeling the surprise coming from Eames at Arthur's willingness to risk staining his suit, but the forger also dropped to his knees without hesitation.

"Three years." Arthur began quietly. "It's been three years since you jumped, and I think about you every day. You were one of my best friends, although I didn't always appreciate you. The last time we spoke, you could already see what I was only starting to. You said Eames followed me, even in dreams. You were right."

He paused, and reached for Eames' hand. "You knew even before I did, that we were meant to end up together, and I'm sorry you weren't around to see it happen. I'm happy, Mal. I love him."

Eames hand tightened around his own, momentarily distracting him from his words. Arthur stroked the back of Eames' hand with his thumb, and he turned back to his grave.

"I miss you, Mal, and if I could do anything to bring you back, I would do it. Ariadne's good for Dom; she'll take care of him and the kids." He stood, brushing his hand along the top of the smooth marble. "Goodbye." He whispered, backing away and leaving Eames to talk to Mal alone.

Arthur stood a little way off, not close enough to hear what Eames was saying, but a little way off from Dom and Ariadne. He was waiting for Eames before he would re-join them. He fixed his eyes on his partner and ran through the night he realised that he cared for Eames.

_"Mal, I need some advice."_

_"What is it, Arthur?"_

_"If I have feelings for someone I shouldn't, what should I do?"_

_"Then you should tell him, darling. It's clear Eames feels the same for you."_

Mal had always known it was Eames. Arthur had never doubted that Mal had seen what he himself had not from the very beginning. It wasn't until that night, hearing her soft French accent purr the nickname that Eames preferred, that he'd realised. The name Eames always used to address him, and _only_ him, reverberated in his ears and he couldn't help feeling that it was wrong, that it was only right when the forger called him darling. Hearing the endearment without the deep, low rumble that was Eames' voice, and his British accent, just left Arthur feeling empty. His eyes had fluttered shut and he'd tried one last time to force down his feelings for the infuriating Brit.

_"But what if it doesn't work?"_

_"But what if it does? It will all work out in the end. Things like this always do."_

Arthur had hung up silently, unable to find a reason to deny his feelings any longer. He was falling for Eames, and he hadn't even realised it.

The next day, Mal had called back, startling Arthur; who'd fallen asleep at the table.

_"Arthur, listen to me. I know it's hard; in our business, relationships can be more dangerous than they're worth. But I know you, and I know Eames, and I have complete faith that you can make this work if you want it to. Don't let your fear hold you back."_

_"It's not that I'm scared. He could destroy me so easily. I could fall in love with him so easily, Mal, and he's not the reliable type. He's not the type to stick around. He'd leave me, and I don't think I could carry on."_

_"Do you really believe that he could do that?"_

_"Yes."_

_"But do you really believe he would do that to you?"_

_"I have to believe it, Mal. Even if I am being selfish. I just don't think it would work, and this is the only way I can keep my distance."_

_"You're being foolish, Arthur. I wish you could see the way he looks at you."_

_"I'm glad that I can't, it would do nothing for my resolve."_

_"Everything will work out, mon cher ami. I promise. I'll see you soon."_

After a few minutes, Eames returned, taken Arthur's hand. They clung to each other in support, but Arthur couldn't help but notice that a sudden distance had appeared between them.

* * *

Eames never did like staying in one place. That he'd stayed with Arthur for over two years without going AWOL once was an achievement in itself. Arthur never took for granted that Eames would be around permanently. The forger just simply wasn't the kind of person to settle down in one spot. Arthur was similar, in that he never stayed in once place for too long, but Eames preferred constantly moving around, whereas Arthur liked having a home to go back to.

He was fond of LA. With Dom, Ariadne and the kids so close by, he felt content to stay put for the time being, having no immediate reason to leave. Besides, on a day like today, Dom needed him. He, Dom and Ariadne were sitting in a bar, each holding their drink of choice. Arthur was driving, so he was nursing a glass of water. They'd already held a silent toast to Mal, and Eames had headed outside to make a phone call. That had been nearly an hour ago, but Arthur hadn't really noticed, lost in his thoughts.

Ariadne had though, and pointed it out. Arthur's head snapped up as he realised she was right. He set down his glass and stood.

"I suppose I'll be off to find him then." He smiled apologetically. "Come round for dinner next week, I'll call you to arrange a day."

He headed outside, and saw no sign of Eames. Arthur shrugged inwardly and headed home. When he got back to the flat, he could tell instantly that Eames hadn't been here since they'd left that morning. His brow furrowed as he wondered where the forger could have got to. He reached for his phone, debating whether or not to run the trace he had on Eames' phone. He decided against it; the trace had only been installed for emergencies and was an invasion of privacy, as were the trackers in their necks. Lifting the phone to his ear, he dialled the number he kept on speed dial.

_"Please leave a message after the tone."_

"Hey, it's me." Arthur felt stupid. "I'm at home, wasn't sure where you disappeared off to. I'll see you when you get here, okay?"

He hung up, and shrugged off his jacket, unknotting his tie. It wasn't like Eames to just disappear without telling him, but he wasn't too upset, sure Eames would tell him when he got home.

The hours ticked by, and by seven pm, Arthur was beginning to feel worried, and slightly pissed. A phone call simply wasn't too much to ask. He tried calling Eames again, but only found his voicemail once more. Still, Arthur didn't run the trace. He sighed, deciding that he would run it the next day if Eames hadn't gotten in touch.

He began channel flicking, settling on a Tarantino film he knew Eames was fond of. When it finished, he fetched his blanket and Eames' pillows, and went to sleep on the sofa. It was what they did whenever the other was away, or on a job. Neither of them wanted to sleep in the bed alone.

The next day, Arthur had still heard nothing from Eames, yet he was still reluctant to invade his privacy and run the trace. Instead, he placed a few calls to mutual acquaintances, including Yusuf and Carolyn. Neither of them had heard from Eames for a few weeks. He'd just put the phone down to Yusuf, when it rang, signalling an incoming call. He snatched it up immediately.

"Eames?"

"No, it is Jacques." The other voice at the end of the line chuckled. "Yusuf just called, he tells me Eames has disappeared? It only took me a few minutes to locate him. Have you lost your touch, _mon ami_?"

"No." Arthur said wearily, sitting down. "I could easily find him. I just don't want to do it that way."

Jacques laughed, heartily. "That explains it all. I said to Yusuf, _non, mon ami_ , even without the trackers, Arthur is the kind of man who would have a trace on Eames' phone, _n'est ce pas_?"

Arthur bit back a smile. "You know me too well, Jacques. But as much as I appreciate your call, I don't want to have to track Eames down."

"I understand, you want him to contact you, for you to be the one he comes back to, yes?"

Arthur didn't reply, but Jacques understood. "I wish you luck, mon ami. Au revoir."

"Goodbye Jacques." Arthur put the phone down, feeling confused. Eames was safe, that much was clear, or Jacques would have told him. But he had still just left without a goodbye, and Arthur was furious that he'd worried so much. He dialled Eames phone one last time.

_"Please leave a message after the tone."_

"Eames, where are you? I'm worried, just let me know you're not in any trouble. If you've gotten restless and decided to go and visit fucking Thailand, you know I wouldn't care. Just some warning would have been fucking appreciated. Let me know if you actually plan on coming home."

He'd started off calm, but Eames' disregard for their relationship had pissed him off. Making a few snap decisions, he made a few calls. Within the hour, the locks on the flat had been changed. Arthur knew he was being petty, but he couldn't make himself care. He made himself a sandwich and sat down with some architecture plans. As soon as he spread out the blueprints, his phone rang. He glanced at it, to see it was Eames. His hand twitched as his anger fought with his worry. Concern won out and he answered the call.

"Arthur, I'm sorry." Eames began. Arthur cut him off.

"Where are you?" He asked coldly. Eames was silent for a moment, clearly surprised.

"I'm coming home."

Anger flooded through him and he ended the call, removing the battery so Eames couldn't call back. Turning back to his plans, he folded them away, no longer able to concentrate. He was tempted to fire bullet holes into everything in the flat that belonged to Eames. The knowledge that he would regret it; and the risk that his neighbours would call the police stopped him, but he was still furious.

The corner of his mouth twitched vindictively as he drew humour from the shock Eames would receive when he tried his key. Arthur sat down on the sofa, watching TV and waiting for Eames' return. After three hours, he heard a scuffling noise outside the door. He counted to ten, and then there was the knock.

"Arthur, it's me. My key won't work, let me in."

Arthur moved to the door swiftly, and opened it. He glared at Eames, coldly, who seemed oblivious to Arthur's black mood.

"It's bloody freezing out there, and you wouldn't believe… hey, what the hell?"

Arthur had shut the door in his face firmly. Eames rapped on the door, loudly.

"Arthur, what the bloody buggering fuck is going on?" He called through the door. Arthur winced; his neighbours would have something to say about Eames' language, and the noise he was making.

"I changed the locks." He called back. "Your lack of respect for me, and our relationship, and the fact that it's _my_ name on the fucking lease means I'm perfectly within my rights to do so. Be thankful I'm not an angry person, Eames, or I'd have thrown your fucking stuff out of the window."

Silence. Then... "You're kicking me out?" Eames' tone was disbelieving. "Because I needed some space?"

Arthur gritted his teeth. "No," He snarled. "Don't turn this around on me. I'm kicking you out because you just _fucking left_ without telling me. You went outside to make a phone call, and then didn't come back for two days, and I'm meant to be alright with that?"

Eames sighed. "Arthur, can I at least come in and talk about this? If you want me to leave after that, I will."

"No."

"Arthur, I can and I will pick the lock, I swear to you."

Arthur paused, then called his bluff. He knew Eames was fully capable of picking the lock, but he wouldn't do it. He respected Arthur too much to break into his flat if he didn't want to see him.

"You won't."

"Then I'll sleep out here all night, and I won't be quiet about it, darling, I can promise you that." He threatened,

Arthur didn't reply, and Eames fell silent. When he spoke again, Arthur had to listen carefully to hear him. The forger's voice was quiet, subdued.

"I'm sorry, darling. I didn't plan to leave. Just, seeing the grave threw me, you know? I needed to get away. I didn't even consider your feelings."

Arthur didn't reply, but he was appeased by Eames' apology. Remembering how choked up he himself had felt at the cemetery, he couldn't really blame Eames for wanting to get away from it all.

He opened the door, and motioned for Eames to come in. Once inside, Arthur melted into his arms, relieved he was okay.

"I was so _worried_ , Eames. If you want to leave, I will never stop you. But at least tell me that you're leaving, and give me some idea of when you'll be back."

Eames was contrite, kissing the top of Arthur's head repeatedly, mumbling apologies between kisses. Arthur had forgiven him instantly, knowing he always would, but Eames had really hurt him, so he'd had to make a stand. He raised his head and pressed his lips to the forgers firmly but briefly. Eames tried to prolong the contact, but Arthur broke away.

"Thailand?" Eames queried lightly. Arthur struggled to hold back a smile and shrugged.

"First place I could think of. Where did you actually go?"

"Monte Carlo." Arthur bit back a laugh. Of course. Typical of Eames to pick somewhere like Monte Carlo to run away to. His face grew solemn. "Promise me, Eames. At least a text."

"I promise." Eames vowed, and Arthur believed him. They stood in the hallway, arms wrapped around each other, for longer than either of them realised.

* * *

Two weeks after Eames' return, Arthur told Ariadne what had happened over lunch.

Ariadne put down her fork and surveyed him, seriously. Arthur met her gaze, unflinching, wondering what was running through her mind.

"And you're okay with that?" She asked.

Arthur shook his head. "Of course not. I almost threw him out. I've always understood Eames' constant need to move around. But I'm not going to put up with him just upping and leaving without letting me know he's safe."

Ariadne nodded thoughtfully, picking up her fork and taking a bite of her chicken salad. Arthur sipped his water, casually.

"So why are you telling me? Don't give me that look." She added, at Arthur's frown. "Anyone that's ever met you knows how private you are. You wouldn't be telling me this if you didn't have a reason. So come on, spill."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fine." He slid a key across the table. "That's the new spare to replace the one you have."

He watched the realisation dawn. "You changed the locks? Oh my God!" Ariadne exclaimed gleefully. "What did Eames say? Did he break in?"

He frowned. "No, he didn't. I let him in after fifteen minutes. I just wanted to make sure I got my point across." He checked his watch. "I'm sorry, I've got to dash. I'll call you tomorrow; I might have a job lined up."

He pulled out his wallet and dropped some bills on the table, enough to cover both their lunches and a significant tip.

"Okay; thanks for lunch, Arthur." Ariadne smiled. Arthur pressed a brief kiss to her cheek and left, placing a quick call to Eames as he walked smoothly to his car. There was no answer at the flat, so he tried Eames' cell phone.

_"Please leave a message after the tone."_

Arthur sighed. "Sometimes I wonder why you have a phone, it's always off or dead. Remember we have a meeting at four o'clock, and please, _please_ , don't be late." He smiled fondly. "Give me a call back when you can. I love you."

Before the four pm meeting with Saito, Arthur had another, with Philip, an extractor he'd worked with before Dom, which meant they hadn't pulled a job together in over six years. Since working with Dom, Arthur had realised how sloppy Philip's technique was and how much he'd endangered his whole team. On those grounds, Arthur had no intention of working with him again, but Philip had given him the opportunity to prove himself as an excellent point man and build up his reputation, so he owed it to Philip to refuse his request in person and to point him in the direction of other possible point men who would take the job.

He left his phone on vibrate and slipped it into his shirt pocket, so he would know immediately if Eames replied. Entering the bar, Arthur spotted his old colleague instantly and slid into the seat opposite.

"Hello Philip."

"Arthur. You look so different. I almost didn't recognise you." Philip sounded surprised. Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"In what way?" He asked, trying to keep his tone from biting. He looked the same as ever, in ten years, Arthur had never deviated from his professional façade.

"You look more relaxed, like you're happy. If you don't mind my saying so, it suits you. I know the look, you've got someone special." He smiled. "I'm glad. I always thought you spent too much time working and not enough time having fun."

Arthur chuckled. "My role requires perfection. I spend so much time working because overlooking the tiniest detail can kill us; and he understands that."

Arthur watched the surprised register on Philip's face. "He's in the business? Eames will hate that; he was always so taken with you. Is he still chasing after you?"

Fighting to repress a grin, Arthur shook his head. "Not any more, no." It wasn't a lie. Eames no longer had to chase after Arthur, because he'd well and truly caught him. His eyes partly narrowed as he realised that everyone had known about Eames _except_ Arthur. How had he been so blind not to see it?

Philip raised an eyebrow. "Really? I never thought Eames would give up. So what does your partner do?"

Arthur hesitated, then decided to tell the truth. He trusted Philip not to sell them out. "He's a forger."

The extractor threw back his head and roared with laughter. "I knew he'd never give up on you. So he finally caught you. I'd have loved to have seen that."

Arthur chuckled humourlessly. "Trust me, you wouldn't." He said dryly. "We were under threat of limbo at the time, in the middle of an inception."

His ex-colleague eyes widened, and he shook his head. "You were always made for better things than working with me, Arthur. An inception? Jesus Christ."

Arthur smiled, then the conversation turned to business. "Do you need a forger?" He asked, leaning across the table. Philip shook his head, remorsefully, and Arthur drew back.

"I'm sorry, I can't take the job." He said regretfully. "I don't take jobs longer than a few weeks without Eames, and what you want will take at least six months. I can point you in the direction of others who could take it, if that will be any use to you?"

Philip nodded thoughtfully. "You and Eames a package deal now? It's the safest option in our business. Relationships can be used against you. I was surprised no one used your friendship with Cobb against you."

Arthur shrugged. "It wasn't for a lack of trying, but I ensured nobody ever came close to Dom, and no one will ever get close to Eames." His voice hardened. "I take a lot of precautions."

Philip sighed, resigned. "I suppose you better write down those details."

The point man stood, elegantly. "You know me better than that, Philip." He smirked. "I've sent him your case. He'll be in touch within the hour. Good luck." He inclined his head respectfully, and left. Pulling out his phone, he frowned when he realised Eames still hadn't been in touch. He shook his head, irritated with the forger's forgetfulness. As long as he turned up to the warehouse on time to meet Saito, then everything would be fine. Eames knew as well as anyone that Saito was an impatient man. If the worse came to the worse, Arthur could handle the meeting alone, but he would prefer to have Eames there with him.

He got in his car and drove to the warehouse, arriving five minutes early. It didn't surprise him that Saito was already there, or that there were two bodyguards already stationed outside. As he approached, one of them made a grab at him. Instantly, Arthur twisted out of the way and had his gun pointed in the bodyguard's face.

"If our mutual friend deems it necessary to have me searched," he began acidly, but discreetly. "Then he can give the order in front of me and I will agree without hesitation."

Saito emerged from the warehouse, a small smirk gracing his usually solemn face.

"As always, Arthur, you never fail to impress." He nodded to the bodyguards, who relaxed instantly. "They were told to expect two of you, when you arrived alone, they were naturally … on edge. Where is Mr Eames?"

"He's been held up. I'm not sure if he'll be able to make it." Arthur replied, engaging the safety lever and stowing away his gun. "Nice to see you again, Saito."

Saito inclined his head. "Shall we get straight to business?" He gestured for Arthur to follow him into the warehouse.

"Robert Fischer did as we hoped and dissolved Fischer Morrow. Recently, it has come to my attention that Peter Browning has been trying to reunite the empire. I would like your team to find out how, so that I may use my resources to put an end to it."

Arthur stopped. "An extraction? Compared to your last request, I was expecting something impossible, Mr Saito." He smiled. "Consider it done."

"Can you pull Mr Cobb out of his retirement?" Saito asked. Arthur laughed.

"I won't need to. As soon as Ariadne accepts, Dom will follow."

Saito nodded. "Then I will be in touch very soon." He strode towards the door, their business complete. Arthur hung back for a few moments, then followed him out. He was furious that Eames hadn't shown up. Arthur had told him three or four times, and had reminded him again that morning before he left for lunch with Ariadne. Arthur drove back to the flat, furiously, breaking at least a dozen laws. He burst into his flat, intent on wringing Eames' neck, but found the place was empty. Checking each room, there was no sign that Eames had been home. Glancing around the bedroom, he felt a niggling doubt that something was wrong, something was out of place, but he couldn't spot anything.

Suddenly, everything fell into place. Eames had gone again. There was no note in the flat, and nothing had come through to his phone. He called Jacques, who picked up instantly.

"Arthur, _mon ami_ , twice in two weeks! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure."

"Hey, Jacques. Can you check if Eames is still in the country?" Arthur's voice sounded hollow, flat even to his own ears.

Jacques was silent. At last he replied. "But of course, my friend. Are you not capable of doing such a thing yourself?"

Arthur let out a half-laugh, half-sob. "Yeah, I could. But if I find him, I'll go after him. And I don't want to anymore."

" _Sacré bleu! _You mean to leave him?" Jacques exclaimed, horrified. "But everyone knows how much Eames loves you, _non___?"

Arthur laughed, harshly. "You're avoiding the question, Jacques. I know you knew the answer before I even dialled your number. Has he left the country?"

Jacques sighed, wearily. " _Oui_. I am sorry, my friend. He is no longer in the United States."

Arthur felt his heart sink. Tears pricked his eyes. Eames had promised him, and he had broken it.

"Thank you. I appreciate your help." His voice sounded mechanical, and it was taking all of his strength not to break down.

"Take care, _mon ami_. Call me any time."

Arthur hung up, and dialled Eames' number, forcing his feelings down as he adopted his professional demeanour.

"You promised me that you would let me know if you ever felt the urge to leave the country. I find I'm no longer willing to allow you to take advantage of our relationship. I intend to complete Saito's job with Ariadne and Dom, and will be out of Los Angeles for a few weeks. You have until the end of that time to remove anything you want to keep out of my flat, or I shall dispose of it for you." He forced an icy cold tone, but inwardly, his heart was breaking. He couldn't keep up the façade and his voice shook. "I always knew you would break my heart, Eames. I should never have trusted you."

He hung up, reaching for a bottle of whiskey and a glass. Settling down in Eames' armchair, he smelt the familiar, once-comforting smell of tea and cigarettes, and the tears began to fall.

* * *

The next morning, he awoke, unaware of his surroundings. His throat was scratchy and his eyes felt puffy, not to mention the pounding headache he felt. Stretching out, he recoiled as he felt his stiff muscles. Forcing his eyes to open, he found himself still in Eames' chair. His heart clenched as he remembered the events of the day before. He'd allowed himself his moment of weakness, his time to grieve over the broken-heart he _knew_ would occur when he'd fallen for Eames. Now it was time to go back to his former life. Forcing himself to stand up and clear away the empty bottle, he ignored the part of his brain that was screaming that he didn't _want_ to go back to how he was before Eames. There had always been something missing, a gap that Eames had filled perfectly.

Arthur quashed all feelings about the forger and hopped in the shower. He bit his lip hard when he saw Eames' toothbrush. As soon as he dressed, he would pack up all of the forger's belongings. Having them around the flat was doing nothing but hurt him more. Wrapping a towel around his waist, Arthur rifled through his wardrobe for something to wear, settling on a pair of grey trousers and a black shirt. He combed and slicked back his hair, when his eyes spotted something reflected in the mirror. He turned around, lowering the comb as he moved closer. Sitting on top of Arthur's bedside table, was a plain poker chip. Eames' totem.

Arthur had known Eames for a long time. Long enough to know that the forger never left a room without his totem with him. No one in their profession did. His heart stopped and he reached out a hand to trace the lettering on the chip. Suddenly fearing the worst, Arthur moved swiftly to his laptop, opening it and running the trace on Eames' phone. The trace failed, and as soon as it did, Arthur knew that Eames had been kidnapped from their flat.

"Shit!" Arthur roared, furiously. His phone rang and he snatched it up, furiously.

"May I assume this is Arthur?"

"Armstrong." Arthur snarled, recognising the voice. "What the fuck do you want?"

Armstrong tutted. "Now, now, Arthur. We both know you're an intelligent man. You surely know by now that I have your lover."

"My lover?" Arthur laughed, harshly. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I have no lover."

Armstrong sighed patiently. "Still you underestimate me. Listen carefully please."

Arthur began to scoff, when he realised what he was hearing. " _Please, please, don't be late. Give me a call when you can. I love you_."

His tone was icy. "Fine. You have his phone. What the fuck do you want?"

Armstrong ignored him. "And we have your second voicemail too. That caused Eames a lot of pain, didn't it, Eames? You might not have reacted, but I saw the pain in your eyes when young Arthur said he should never have trusted you."

Arthur winced at the memory of the voicemail, and how much it would have hurt Eames. He bit his lip, forcing down his choking desire to cry out, shout how sorry he was, how much he loved Eames. If Armstrong sensed the slightest weakness, he would use it to his advantage.

"I always did wonder why you were together in London, and why you were rarely seen out of each other's company. _Lovers_. It seems so obvious now I know the truth."

Arthur snapped. "Prove to me that you have him."

"Does the name Derek Harrison mean anything to you?" Arthur blood ran cold. Only Eames knew about that, although anyone who knew Eames' past could have worked it out. It wasn't enough to prove that Armstrong had him.

"Not good enough." He growled. "I want to ask a question and I want Eames to answer it himself."

There was a click, and Arthur could hear that he'd been put on speakerphone.

"Eames? If you _are_ actually there, describe the first time you kissed me."

A scratchy voice answered him, but Arthur recognised it. "Nearly five years ago, on a job in Bucharest. I took a bullet for you, and while I was dying I kissed you. You put a bullet between my eyes." Arthur's blood ran cold with every word.

"Have they hurt you?" He demanded. Eames laughed scornfully.

"No more than you'd expect."

"What will it take to guarantee his freedom?" Arthur's voice was icy, but unwavering as he directed his question at the man who held his lover captive.

Armstrong laughed, a cold sound that made Arthur's heart sink. "I'm afraid it's too late for that, Arthur. Eames _will_ die. But not yet. No, I want you to die first, and for him to see it. I want him to know that his interfering was responsible for the death of his lover, and knowing his own life will be forfeit shortly after. I imagine you're not the type to leave your loved ones defenceless? Thus, I offer you a choice. Die with him, quickly and relatively painlessly. If you leave him to die, I promise you it will be slow."

"Don't come after me, Arthur. I'm dead either way, and…ugh." Eames cut off, groaning, and Arthur knew he'd received a blow, probably to the ribs. He closed his eyes.

"Alright. I'll come, but I want your guarantee that Eames will not be harmed until I arrive. I need time to clear up loose ends."

"Done. We await you in Prague, Arthur. You know the place." The line went dead, and Arthur struggled to hold himself together. He managed to control his breathing, and then set to work, arming himself with his Glock, Eames' Heckler and Koch P2000, and two knives. Heading to his car, he called Saito.

"I'm not sure if I'll be able to complete your assignment, but I do need a favour."

He could tell Saito was intrigued. "How can I be of assistance?"

"I need to get to Prague as soon as possible." Arthur begged, knowing his voice contained an edge of hysteria.

"What has happened?" Saito demanded.

"Meet me at Dom's. I can't explain over the phone." He hung up and sped across town to his best friend's house. He banged on the door loudly. Dom answered it warily, eyes widened when he saw Arthur's distress when he almost fell through the doorway.

Dom caught him, leading him to a chair. Ariadne brought him a glass of water, which Arthur drank dutifully, calming down.

"Eames has been kidnapped." He whispered. His friends looked horrified. "It's personal, and I'm going to get him back."

The doorbell rang, and Ariadne dashed off to answer it. She came back, with Saito just behind her. Arthur had managed to collect himself, and his mind was focused solely on retrieving Eames.

"Eames has been kidnapped. He's being held by an extractor that betrayed their team a few years ago. Eames managed to escape and found me in Prague, where I shot him. I thought he was dead, but I failed to check. Since then, he's managed to trace us twice, and I have no idea how. They're holding him in Prague now, and I'm going after him." He glanced at his friends. "I need you to get me there quickly."

Saito nodded. "I can have a plane ready in twenty minutes." His phone in his hand, he left the room to make a phone call.

Arthur thanked him, and turned to Dom and Ariadne. "I'm here because I need you to make arrangements if the worst happens, and one or both of us doesn't make it home." He handed Dom a piece of paper. "This is a list of everything Eames and I own. My will states that everything will fall to you in the event of my death."

Ariadne approached Arthur and wrapped her arms around him. "Arthur, you underestimate yourself. I know you can come home, no matter what the outcome."

Arthur smiled at her, and drew back, standing up. "Not without Eames."

He held Dom's gaze, who nodded at him, sadly. Ariadne watched the gesture, baffled. With a final nod, Arthur left, and Saito followed him out.

Ariadne turned to her lover in confusion and misery. "I don't understand, Dom. If the worst happens, and Arthur is too late, he'll still be able to get away, right?"

Dom wrapped an arm around Ariadne, and pulled her to him so she was resting her head on his shoulder. "If Arthur is too late, and Eames dies, he won't want to come home, Ari. Arthur's always been prepared for something like this. He'll let them take him out. If Eames dies, he'll make damn sure he dies too."

* * *

Arthur found himself in Prague within eight hours, thanks to Saito's private jet shaving three hours off the expected journey time. As soon as he boarded the plane, he placed a call to Jacques.

"Arthur? I thought you did not wish to go after Eames."

"He's been kidnapped. Armstrong had him. _Fuck_ , Jacques, how did we miss that? It should have flagged up as soon as he entered the states."

" _C'est impossible_!" Jacques thundered. "I would have been notified immediately. He must have sent someone else to take him."

"Well whoever it was, it was no amateur. I'm on my way to the flat to get him back."

"Take no unnecessary risks, my friend. The world will be boring without one of you, but without both of you, dreamsharing will suffer. Bring him home, but if you cannot, make sure you come back."

Arthur smiled. "You know me better than that. I cannot promise what you ask."

He could sense Jacques' returning smile. "Then we will have to ensure you both come home, _non_?"

Once in Prague, Arthur found his way to his flat relatively quickly. He had no doubt that Armstrong had been made aware of his arrival and was expecting him. He had no time to delay, or work on a plan, so he pulled out his key and slipped it into the lock. A throat was cleared behind him, and Arthur swung round. It wasn't Armstrong, but it was clearly one of his goons, sporting an eyepatch. He gestured for Arthur to follow, and he did so, eyes peeling the streets sharply for any sign of an ambush. He might be walking into the lion's den, but he wasn't doing so blindly.

Arthur was thankful for the tracker that had been implanted in his neck. He, Dom, Eames and Jacques all had them; the number of jobs they had pulled together. It meant that no matter where Armstrong took them, his friends would be able to find them. It was a small comfort, knowing that they would get a decent burial. On the flight, Arthur had managed to come to terms with the fact that Eames would be killed as soon as Arthur stepped foot in Prague, but he could never leave his lover to die while there was still a chance to save him.

The goon, or _Eyepatch_ as Arthur had christened him, led Arthur down a few back alleys. Arthur had never actually spent a prolonged period of time in his flat in Prague, but he knew the area. If they were walking on foot, and heading in north-easterly direction from his flat, Arthur calculated that they were heading towards an abandoned storage facility. The prospect wasn't appealing. His suspicion was confirmed as Eyepatch opened the gate, leading them inside. Just inside, not even inside a storage container, Armstrong was sitting pointing a gun at Eames.

"Arthur! How good of you to come." Armstrong exclaimed jovially. Eames' head snapped up and he met Arthur's gaze. His shoulders slumped, miserably.

Arthur turned to the extractor, barely repressing his fury. "May I?" He gestured at Eames. The extractor waved him over, dismissively. Arthur moved quickly over to Eames' side, kneeling next to him, his fingertips running over his face and neck.

"Are you hurt?" He whispered, out of intimacy rather than the desire to be quiet. Eames shook his head.

"No." His voice was still scratchy. "Thirsty, but not harmed. I think they realised you'd go military on their arse if they hurt me."

The point man pressed a kiss to Eames' brow affectionately. "I'm so sorry I doubted you, Eames." He pressed the poker chip into his hands, and Eames clutched it gratefully. In return, he pressed a kiss to Arthur's lips, and Arthur gently kissed him back, wrapping his arms around the forger. Even though Eames' lips were dry, chapped, Arthur was so _fucking relieved_ that was alright, that he didn't care.

Armstrong coughed, and they broke apart, glaring. "I'm sorry to break up what has been a truly touching reunion, but I'm afraid I'm on a schedule."

Arthur stood, raising himself to his full height, and turning his icy stare onto Armstrong, who met his gaze, sporting an amused expression.

"Yes, I thought you would be the type to die with dignity." He nodded approvingly. "Military teachings, no doubt? Yes, it's such a shame that you are so _loyal_ to him, Arthur. If you had simply turned your head in Prague, you wouldn't be here now." He shrugged.

Arthur's jaw twitched. "I would shoot you a thousand times over if it meant I could relive the last three years with Eames."

Armstrong's face darkened. "I don't doubt it." He said coldly. "Now, if you have quite finished wasting my time, I have a schedule to keep." He nodded at Eyepatch, who forced Arthur to his knees. Arthur glared up at him, every fibre of his hate visible within the force of his stare.

"Eames, are you watching this? No, don't close your eyes. I want you to watch as your lover dies because of you."

Arthur reached for Eames' hand, clutching it desperately. It was too soon. They weren't going to get out of this warehouse alive, he realised.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save us." He murmured, his eyes finding his lover's. In his peripheral vision, he could see Armstrong raise the gun. "Go down fighting?"

"Always." Came the reply, and they flung themselves out of the path of the bullet. Arthur threw the knife at Eyepatch, noting the irony as it embedded itself in his good eye, and aimed his Glock at Armstrong's bodyguards. Eames fired a shot at Armstrong, using the semi-automatic Arthur had slipped into his waistband during their earlier embrace. They were ridiculously outnumbered, and neither were under the illusion that they would survive, but both silently agreed that they would be damned if they were going to make it easy for Armstrong to kill them. They worked well, taking down more than half of Armstrong's men, before Arthur was hit. He let out a gasp, drawing Eames' attention.

The forger threw himself towards Arthur, and a white hot pain shot through him as a bullet skimmed his thigh. He ignored it, catching the point man before he hit the floor, Arthur clutched at his shoulder, and Eames did his best to ignore the blood that was soaking his shirt. He held Arthur in his arms. Armstrong opened his mouth to speak, when the door flew open behind him and a hail of bullets rained down on his men.

"You didn't really think we'd leave Eames to die, did you?" Dom yelled at his friends, firing shot after shot, which found their way into the heads of his victims. Jacques was less precise, firing his machine gun anywhere he could reach, taking down anyone in its path.

" _Bonjour, mes amis_! So nice to see you again, and under such wonderful circumstances." He cried, sweeping his long blond hair out of his face, as he ran out of bullets. Instead of reloading, he began using his gun as a melee weapon, bringing it down hard on the heads of anyone he encountered. Eames stood up, pointing his gun at Armstrong, who had dropped his weapon and was on his knees, admitting defeat.

"Eames, look, it was nothing personal." He garbled. Eames stared down at him, cold, unforgiving.

"It was always personal." Eames growled. "And if it wasn't, it became personal when you shot my partner."

He unclicked the safety, and was stopped by Arthur's hand on his arm.

"You don't take killing very well, Eames." He smiled. Eames admired his composure, the only noticeable signs that Arthur had been shot were his blood soaked shirt, and a tightness around his eyes that betrayed his pain. "Let me do it."

Eames shook his head and shot Armstrong between the eyes. He turned to Arthur. "Trust me when I say that his death is one I will never regret." Arthur knelt and checked his pulse.

"No mistakes this time." He shrugged, and confirmed Armstrong was definitely dead.

He surveyed the damage to the warehouse and took a step towards Jacques, hissing as the movement sent a searing pain through his leg. Jacques looked down at the blood dripping down his leg and pursed his lips disapprovingly.

"You both do not handle gunfights very well, _non_? Perhaps you should leave them to the experts, like me and Monsieur Cobb." He grinned.

"Fuck you." Arthur spat, but there was only affection and gratitude in his tone.

"Come on, Saito has a car outside, you both need medical help." Dom's tone brooked no argument, so with a little help from Jacques and Dom, and Saito, who had appeared from nowhere, Arthur and Eames managed to stumble clear of the warehouse, and into the waiting car. Dom climbed in afterwards, but Jacques hung back. At their questioning look, he explained.

"Ah, I cannot come with you my friends, there is some business still to take care of here. It will be a blaze of glory, a sight to behold!" He waved his arms dramatically. "You shall see the fire from the plane, _oui_?"

Arthur held out his good arm and grasped Jacques' hand warmly. " _Merci, mon ami_. I can never repay you for this."

Jacques turned his dark eyes on Arthur, smiling gently. "Perhaps one day you will return the favour. I'll be in touch."

The car pulled away, and Arthur and Eames clutched hands tightly. The adrenaline wore off, and the pain of their wounds started to take hold. It dawned on them both how close they had come to losing each other. Dying meant little to the two men; their line of work was dangerous, it was generally accepted that there was a huge risk. What did affect them was how their relationship had been used against them, how a moment of carelessness like Arthur telling Eames he loved him in a voicemail, had resulted in Armstrong gaining the leverage he needed to get them right where he needed them. They would have to be more careful in future.

* * *

Arthur's wound healed well, and he regained full mobility of his shoulder. The scar that was left became Eames' favourite place to brush his lips over, to remind them of what they had almost lost. Similarly, Eames' flesh wound cleared up, and after four months of Arthur's gritted teeth and overall impatience, he was ready to head back to dreamsharing.

"You can go back under from tomorrow. There should be no lasting damage." Ariadne told Arthur, who shot a glance at Eames, smiling.

"I'm retiring." The point man told her, grinning at Ariadne's shocked expression. Dom inhaled a mouthful of his coffee, and choked, spluttering it everywhere. Eames took a swift step out of the way, disgusted.

"Retiring?" Dom gasped, as Eames thumped him on the back. "Why?"

Arthur looked fondly at Eames. "There are just some things I'm unwilling to risk. My life wasn't one of them. Eames is."

Dom glanced at the forger, who raised his hands. "Nothing to do with me, he decided that on his own." He paused. "Although you might want to start looking for another forger too."

It was true, Arthur had made the decision to retire independently. It was just sheer coincidence that Eames had decided the same thing. Neither of them had wanted to broach the subject with the other, Eames believing that Arthur would ridicule his choice as cowardly, and Arthur feeling that Eames would do the same.

It had taken a job offer for them to discuss the subject. It was a hefty sum of money if they pulled it off, and the job was easy enough. But they just didn't want to do it.

"I can't go under yet, I've been medically forbidden." Arthur used his injured shoulder as an excuse when discussing it with Eames. "I still have another month before I'm cleared to work with Somnacin."

Eames nodded thoughtfully. "And you know I won't work without you, darling."

Arthur felt immensely guilty, knowing that if he retired, Eames wouldn't be able to take another job, since he was refusing to work with another point man. His guilt also prohibited him from broaching the subject of his impending retirement, unwilling to make Eames feel obliged to continue. He was amazed when Eames had brought it up himself.

"Actually, darling, I was thinking I wouldn't work at all anymore. We've made enough from the business that we could have retired years ago. I kept working because I enjoyed it. I still do, but I just don't think it's worth the risks anymore. I'm getting too old to keep up with gunfights, and being kidnapped and whatnot."

Arthur knew Eames was using the kidnapping as an excuse to retire, rather than admitting it was Arthur's close call. The bullet could have hit anywhere, and seeing Eames' immediate horror and concern when Arthur had been hit, the point man knew there was more to it that the forger was saying.

Instead of calling him out on it, Arthur nodded. "I was thinking the same. Although the risks are minimised, they're still there. We'd have to keep moving around." He warned.

"I know. But it's less risky this way." Eames grew solemn. "And if I feel the need to leave, I can take you with me. What do you say?"

Arthur smiled and reached out with his good arm. "I say, when do we leave?"

They hadn't discussed the matter again, until Dom had brought it up, and the extractor was looking less than enamoured with the idea of losing his point man and his forger. Ariadne was trying to stifle a grin, but failed to conceal her happiness for the couple. At Dom's accusing glare, Arthur sighed.

"Look, Dom, Jacques is just as capable as I am. And if you get stuck finding someone, I'll look into it. But I'm retired, I've spent more than years on the run, hopping from place to place, getting shot at, in fact; fuck that, _getting shot_ , and now I just want to retire and spend the rest of my probably short life with Eames. You're supposed to be retired yourself."

Dom looked abashed, and didn't respond, but his face relaxed and he patted Arthur's hand clumsily. Ariadne made their excuses and led Dom from the room. Eames gently brushed his lips against Arthur's, and then took his hand.

"So, darling, where should we start? Paris? Rome?"

They ended up in a small house in Nice, France. It was fantastic at first; they spent their free time taking up hobbies that they'd previously had no time to explore. Arthur had extended his language fluency, adding Japanese and Russian to the list. Eames had taken a job in a casino as a security manager. Knowing all of the tricks, and even responsible for creating a few of them, he was quick to spot a potential con.

They stayed there for four months, then they moved to Bucharest. Eames felt it was romantic, since it was where they first kissed. Arthur thought that was ridiculously sentimental, but was touched so he didn't complain.

All in all, their retirement lasted fifteen months. Both had been feeling the burden of their shared decision for about a month, but had neglected to mention it. Arthur was quite simply bored, and even considered re-joining the army. Not for the first time, he began to regret his honourable discharge; everyone who had enlisted for and completed Project Somnacin received one, in order to pursue a career in dreamsharing. Not that his records were still around to reflect that, but he wasn't willing to start again as a new recruit.

Eames, on the other hand, spent his days evicting people from casinos for doing the same thing he himself had done fifteen years ago. He felt sorry for them, knowing that they would never invent a trick he couldn't spot. He'd spent the last month trying to perfect a mental plan to rob the casino, with no intention of carrying it out. It was clear that he was becoming restless again, and it was nothing to do with being tied down to a home, it was due to _boredom_.

That night, Dom called to tell Arthur about a job he'd agreed to in Bern, Switzerland. He often called to run through his plan with them; both Arthur and Eames had a keen mind and could often work out any potential blind spots or mistakes. As usual, Arthur hit the speakerphone button so Eames could talk while cooking.

"Jacques is unavailable for this one, so if you knew anyone that could help, it would be a great help, Arthur. Same for you, Eames, I need a forger on this one."

Before Eames registered his thoughts, he'd blurted out a response. "I'll do it. No need to look for anyone else, I'm free."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Dom, I'll have to call you back."

He hung up the phone and stared at Eames, who stirred his pasta sauce and pretended not to notice.

"Well?" Arthur demanded impatiently. Eames added a pinch of salt to the sauce, and spooned a small amount up.

"Darling, taste that for me; let me know if you think it needs anything."

Arthur opened his mouth to object, but Eames pushed the spoon into his mouth so he was forced to taste the sauce.

"Eames, don't change the subject, _fuck that's good_ , why didn't you tell me you weren't happy with the retirement?"

Eames sighed, knowing he wasn't going to be able to avoid the subject. "Darling, I _am_ happy with the retirement, but I am so bloody sick of casinos it's unreal. Just for once, I'd like to be _shot_ at. I didn't mention it because I don't want you to feel obligated to come out of retirement just because I want to."

Arthur nodded, and hit redial. "Dom? We'll take the job. We'll be on the flight first thing tomorrow." Eames dropped the spoon in surprise, resulting in pasta sauce splashing up his t-shirt and his face. He flinched in shock, and Arthur laugh echoed around the house. Eames wiped his face with a towel and raised his eyebrow at the point man as he took off his ruined shirt. Sure enough, Arthur's eyes darkened as he trailed his gaze down the forger's body.

"I'll call you when we land." He hung up and moved swiftly over to Eames, lowering his head and pressing a kiss to the tattoo that caressed Eames' collarbone. The forger groaned and tried to tug Arthur's head away.

"Darling, if you want to eat tonight, you need to stop distracting me." He groaned half-heartedly. Arthur reluctantly pulled back, but Eames pulled him in for a long, slow kiss. Arthur pressed himself against the forger, who hissed and bucked his hips. He undid Arthur's buttons slowly, and tugged his shirt off, finding the time to kiss the scar left by Armstrong's bullet. Arthur gasped and reached for the forger's belt. He tugged it off, and reached for Eames' zip when the fire alarm sounded. Startled, they jumped away from each other.

Eames swore violently when he spotted the reason behind the interruption. Arthur calmly shot the smoke alarm, as Eames opened a window, and held the now ruined saucepan underneath the tap, rinsing away what had previously been their dinner. Sheepishly, they grinned at each other.

"So, since dinner is ruined, how about we order in later?" Eames suggested.

"Later?" Arthur asked.

Eames smirked. "Yeah, after you finished what you started."

They didn't leave the bedroom for the rest of the night.

* * *

Two weeks later they were in Bern, ready to carry out the job. Arthur had spent sleepless nights ensuring that he missed nothing, and Eames, who rarely practiced his forge since he quite often had to improvise on the day, spent hours hooked up to the PASIV, ensuring he'd perfected everything. Dom was impressed by their hard work, and encouraged them to take longer breaks between jobs if they would return with that amount of dedication. Eames was glad to be back pulling cons; going straight didn't suit him at all, and Arthur found he was relieved whenever Ariadne asked him to double check her architecture, because it gave him the opportunity to stay up all night, glued to his laptop. It was stressful, irritating, and both of them realised how much they missed it.

It certainly wasn't anything to do with their lack of effort that the job went to shit. The mark suspected that his business partner would try something, and realised he was dreaming. Arthur and Eames figured it out immediately, and shot themselves awake. They gave Dom and Ariadne a kick from above, and held off the mark and his bodyguards so they could make their escape.

Sticking together, even though separating would minimise the risk, Arthur and Eames found themselves running down the street, ducking into an alley as they reloaded their pistols. Panting and gasping for breath, Eames managed to force out a laugh.

"Still wish we were back in Bucharest?" Eames chuckled, wheezing.

"Fuck no." Arthur grinned. "Just so you know; I am never fucking retiring again. Don't ever fucking suggest it."

Eames laughed. "Wouldn't dream of it, darling." He leaned over and pressed a rough kiss to Arthur's lips. "Ready to go back out there and possibly get shot again?"

Arthur's grin got even wider. "Bring it on."

Together, they burst out of the alley, guns blazing as they rolled across the floor, taking cover behind a skip. As the mark drew closer, Arthur and Eames found the time to exchange glances. This was their life; bending physics, paradoxical architecture, taking on another's form, stealing from people's minds and being shot at. It was what they knew how to do best and what they loved to do; and the best part of it was that they could do it together. During their shared glances, Arthur realised that his life hadn't changed all that much since Eames came into it. The only major difference was that now he had the forger to share it with. Eames reflected on how much things had changed from when he first laid eyes on the point man, and how this was all he'd ever wanted.

And when they'd managed to escape the mark's bodyguards, and they practically fell in the door of their hotel room, and they pressed frantic, furious kisses to each other's mouths, they both realised that they never wanted things to change, and even without dreams, they'd found their share of the real life.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://diceandpokerchips.tumblr.com/)


End file.
